My Saint, Your Saviour
by RubyFiamma
Summary: [5980/8059] [A/U] [Smut] Gokudera Hayato is a homicide detective for the Namimori Middle Police Department. Will he be able to catch the serial killer that always seems to be two steps ahead of him or will he end up becoming one of his victims?
1. Book I : My Saint : Chapter I

**Author's Note: **Hey guys, Ruby again! So I've started another fic yes, and I know that The Future Is All I See is till unfinished but I really wanted to get this story out there! I will finish TFIAIS when I get the feel back, because right now this story is currently to preoccupying!

**WARNING: **

**This fic contains yaoi (boys love), sexually explicit content, violence, swearing and possible character death (no worries, not our boys!)**

**Rated M, R, 18+ or (NC17)**

**[Other Warnings]**

This fic is A/U

**[Pairing] **8059/5980 , Yama x Goku, Yamamoto Takeshi x Gokudera Hayato (and reverse, because you know how I love my seme Goku)

As always, please rate and review. Comments feed my starving ego and definitely inspire me! Hope you enjoy what's to come!

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**My Saint, Your Saviour**

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**Book I - In the Beginning**

**Chapter I**

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Another fucking dead body. The third one in three weeks. This one was the same as the last ones too. Lacerations to the arms and torso, ligament marks around the wrists and of course, it was headless.

Fuck, this was getting to be troublesome.

"Oi oi... what do we have here?" Hayato pulled deep on his filterless cigarette, squinting an eye as the smoke curled around his face.

"Ah, Gokudera-san," one of the uniformed officers gasped, looking up from the corpse with surprise. "This is another John Doe... no ID on the body and well... as you can see, ahem, there's no head."

"Che... no shit. This is getting to be real fucking annoying." He flicked the cigarette down on the ground and crushed it beneath his heel.

"Uh, Gokudera-san, the crime scene?" the officer said warily, eyeing the cigarette butt.

"Eh?" Hayato looked down at the cigarette and shrugged. "Oh. Well, discard of it, will you? Where the fuck is Sasagawa?"

The officer stood and sighed. "I haven't seen him. We were the first ones on the scene." He nodded in the direction of the other uniformed officers.

"Che, fucking idiot lawn head. Have the CSU clean this shit up and put the report on my desk. Ugh."

Hayato lit another cigarette and watched as the uniformed officer he didn't know the name of nod and trudge over to the crime scene unit chief, Kyoya Hibari. The officer winced, no doubt because of the way Kyoya sneered at him and told him to get lost before he was bitten to death. Hayato was glad he didn't have to deal with that asshole, he walked around with a big chip on his shoulder and his head held immodestly high just because he came from a long line of Japanese warriors.

Not to say that Hayato didn't have his own chip on the shoulder, he was just a different kind of asshole.

Hayato Gokudera was a hot headed and brash, infamous homicide detective for the Namimori Middle Police Department. Since Namimori was such a large town, it had been divided into sections and he happened to live and work within the Namimori Middle District.

His infamacy didn't come from his spectacular detective skills, from catching high profile killers or a reputation that proceeded him. He was known for being the brother of the notorious Poison Scorpion, or Bianchi Filippi as Hayato knew her.

Bianchi was a very beautiful woman with ivory skin and rose coloured hair. Her eyes were a bright olive green, a few shades darker than her brother's, and her lips were smooth and supple, to which she always had painted in a fresh, glossy vermilion stain. She had received her nickname from the assumption that she had poisoned her previous husbands, the most recent being husband number four, Romeo di Marco, a prospective Italian mobster, who was next in line to be the new head of the Bovino Famiglia. Though there was much speculation, most cases ended in the victims dying of natural causes and Bianchi making it out rich with the insurance or other material things. There was no evidence to make a conviction stick but Hayato knew otherwise. His sister was a beautifully cunning and dangerous woman.

Growing up in Italy, Hayato knew the mafia world quite well. His father was an underboss and his uncle, Shamal worked as black market doctor for their family or any other crime syndicate that would pay in large bills or voluptuous women.

With his father being so involved in criminal activities, he was left to the devices of his older sister who force fed him cookies laced with cyanide on several occasions. She had always loved to hate her little brother and he had developed a sick nauseating phobia whenever he saw her face.

Hayato grew up from a quiet and docile boy into a very short tempered man who smoked and drank and cursed a lot, in three different and colourful languages. He had sharp green eyes that reflected any source of light like they were pools of liquid jade and flawless, alabaster skin. He had silver hair that looked like it was kissed by moonlight that fell in short layers over his eyes and laid in longer, shaggy locks that framed around his structured jaw and neck. He occasionally tied it back with a loose rubber band but never at work, that was a little _too _casual and sometimes he felt his rash behavior and style of dress already embarrassed his captain enough.

He was small in stature, but not frail by any means. His body was angular and sharp, his shoulder blades like wing bones that popped out when his tight leather jacket stretched across his back and ridiculously jutted out were his hip bones, often accentuated by the obscenely low ride of his jeans. His chest was beveled and his torso concave, his long legs turned outward just slightly at the knee, giving him a bow legged appearance. He wore a small silver hoop in each ear, with two silver cuffs lining the outer shell and his fingers were adorned in various fashioned rings, one being a very ornate pewter with a large ruby and garnet stone inlay to which he adored very much.

He didn't have the appearance of your typical cop but putting in almost seven years of heavy grunt work to get where he was, including having to wear that god awful unfashionable uniform, you better believe Hayato was going to take the advantage of being able to dress they way he wanted. As long as Tsuna was fine with it, that was all that mattered to Hayato.

"Alright, alright... where's the coroner?" he asked an officer, stepping over the limp legs that belonged to the corpse. The officer cringed and pointed to his left.

Hayato followed the direction with his eyes and landed on Tetsuya Kusakabe, their resident corner. Hayato had no idea how he became to work with dead people because he always seemed too kind for his off putting appearance - which if you asked Hayato, he'd tell you he looked liked some fucking delinquent and not professional at all, though he'd just be the pot calling the kettle black. Hayato believed his somewhat distaste for the man had something to do with his odd devotion to Hibari.

"Yo, Kusakabe! Have you cleared the body yet? I wanna get the fuck outta here," Hayato shouted, jabbing a thumb over his shoulder in the direction of the corpse.

Kusakabe inclined an eyebrow. "You've only just arrived, Gokudera-san. Have somewhere you'd rather be?"

Hayato snorted. "Are you an idiot? Of course I'd rather be some place else rather than in the middle of downtown fucking Namimori staring at another dead fucking body. What was the estimated time of death?"

Kusakabe checked his watch. "I put ETD around eight pm yesterday. The body's already in rigor."

Hayato crossed his arms and bit the tip of his thumb. "Cause of death was exsanguination due to the lack of a fucking head?"

Kusakabe nodded, his black hair, too thick and wavy for a man his age - which Hayato had to assume was close to forty- bobbed up and down with the motion. "That appears to be the case, the most obvious anyways. I'll know more when I've had a chance to examine the body. Hm, but Gokudera-san... it's probably the same as the previous two. This seems like its the beginning of a pattern."

Hayato rolled his eyes. "No fucking shit, I figured that out after the second body was dumped. It's not everyday we deal with headless corpses popping up all over town, you know... Speaking of which, this _was_ a dump site, wasn't it?"

Kusakabe set the pen he had been using to fill put paperwork on a clipboard by the coroner's van back into the breast pocket of his white lab coat. "Ah yes. Though there's no blood here at the site, the lividity shows that our John Doe was placed here shortly after death."

Hayato grit his teeth. "Yeah, thanks. Have the report on my desk as soon as possible. I've got to let the tenth know we're dealing with a serial killer."

Kusakabe nodded. Everyone had become accustomed to Hayato's nickname for their boss, even though no one else calls Tsuna that. In fact, such a nickname would probably be highly offensive had Tsuna and Hayato been friends since highschool.

He had ran away from home when he was eight, after finding out his bastard father had an affair on whom he thought was his mother and learning he was the product of that affair. After doing some research, he discovered that the woman who had come to see him occasionally and taught him piano was his mother. Digging further, he uncovered she had been murdered by his father's men because mafia law states that no out of wedlock children can be heir for the next generation Don. With his mother out of the way, his father was free to claim him as a proper son, thus eligible to follow in his father's stead.

Hayato wanted absolutely no part of the mafia or his father. He was on a very dark path, becoming quite the little punk of Palermo and willing to stop at nothing to bring down his father and company. He hated this world and he hated that life but soon realized he wasn't that far off from living the same way some mafia wannabe brat was and decided to catch the first flight out of Italy and start a whole new life wherever that was.

That happened to be a flight to Namimori, Japan. Hayato wasn't much of a believer in fate but at that moment he became one of its followers. His mother had turned out to be half Japanese, a beautiful woman with large green eyes and long silver hair. He had found a picture of her and her family tree in one of his father's black books. His mother's name was Lavina Gokudera, born to a Marienna and Hayato Gokudera in a countryside town called Modica, Italy. She was an amazing concert pianist in her prime and since Hayato's father was a very selfish man, he became obsessed with her and demanded she be his.

He boarded the plane using his birth name, his _Italian _name Luciano Filippi and landed Hayato Gokudera, taking his _real _mother's maiden name and her father's first name. He was fourteen when he came to live in the Middle District of Namimori and tried to live as normal of a life as he could. He enrolled in the only school, Namimori Middle where he met his best friend, Tsunayoshi Sawada. Or Sawada Tsunayoshi if you properly used Japanese honorifics like Hayato had learned to before coming to Japan.

Sawada Tsunayoshi, or Tsuna for short, was a good natured man. He was kind and strong willed and wanted to change the world. Well, the streets of Namimori for now.

He was the tenth generation police chief, as his father and grandfather were before him and he was the one who had helped Hayato find his righteous path in life, aiding him in his goal to make Namimori a safe place, protecting his friends and the ones he loved. Tsuna, or the Tenth as Hayato sometimes referred to him as, was the best police chief Namimori had seen since the first generation.

He stormed over the dead body again, nearly stepping on the corpse in his little temper tantrum, his fists clenched. He was so annoyed.

"Gokudera-san!" one of the officers scolded.

"Yeah, yeah, I know. the fucking crime scene! Fuck off already!"

Hayato got into his unmarked squad car and slammed the door. He reached into the pocket of his blazer and fished put his cigarettes. He lit another one.

Before putting the car in drive he took a minute to think about the string of murders that have been plaguing his conscience since the first body had been found, discarded in an alleyway, decapitated, with the arms crossed over the chest.

So far they had all been male, mid to late twenties and still no IDs had been made. It was taking the CSU too long to run any DNA for recognition and the bastard that was doing the killing was too damned careful. There was never any fingerprints left at the scene, no hairs or fibers and Hayato knew that they were all dump sites. There were no clues, no leads and quite frankly it was really beginning to gnaw at his sanity. He hated having puzzles not pieced together, it irked him to beyond belief. He was a man of reason and logic and not being able to have a solution to a problem made him want to scream in frustration and flip tables, throwing tantrums like a child. Since he had already been kindly reprimanded by the Tenth several times for lashing out, he has developed a chain smoking habit, making the already nasty pre-existing habit far worse than it had been.

He punched his already beaten up dashboard and started the car, cursing in Italian - something he only did when he was _really _pissed off. Being the lead detective on this case he couldn't help but take this personal. He couldn't help but think the killer was taunting him, trying to outsmart him. He wasn't going to stop until he caught this fucker, because in a battle of wits, he knew he'd always come out on top.


	2. Book I : My Saint : Chapter II

_**Chapter II**_

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"Oh Octopus Head! You look extremely tired!"

A hard hand slapped down on Hayato's shoulder and the loud, gruff voice rang through his ears.

Hayato growled and flung his glasses off the bridge of his nose on to his desk. "Ugh, shut the fuck up, Lawn Head. You're too annoying in the mornings." He reached for his likely cold coffee and took a swig anyways. Yup, ice cold.

Ryohei Sasagawa had been Hayato's partner for the last three years, as long as he's been a detective. They knew each other well, they grew up in the same town, went to the same school. The boss even dated Sasagawa's sister.

He had a lot of energy all the time like he was always pumped for something. Hayato thought his enthusiasm was good for being a cop, you couldn't allow yourself to become jaded in this line of work and that was the only thing he admired - from afar - about his partner.

When he was younger, Ryohei was quite the hot head himself, usually finding outlets for his extreme energy by constantly fighting. The last time he did something reckless like that was when he picked a fight with a boy who later brought back his friends and they beat the shit out of him. He received a severe blow to the head - which Hayato assumes is the cause of his stupidity - splitting the flesh over his temple open and knocking him unconscious. While he was in the hospital, his younger sister made him promise to never fight again and he agreed because he loved his sister and hated making her worry. Unfortunately, Ryohei was still too hyperactive, like a child with attention deficit hyperactive disorder -which Hayato strongly believes he has - and he needed something to release his pent up energy. It was then he decided on boxing, becoming devoted to the sport and his health and taking much better care as to not worry his sister. Later down the road, he joined Tsuna's quest for making Namimori Middle District a better place to live, giving up boxing and devoting himself to a life with much more purpose.

"Sorry, fuck face. Maybe you should stop getting drunk to the extreme and not be hung over in the mornings." Ryohei Sasagawa took a seat in the tattered leather chair opposite of Hayato's desk and swung his legs up to the worn wooden top.

Hayato let out an overly dramatic exasperated sigh and pushed Ryohei's legs off his desk. "Fuck you. Where the fuck were you yesterday? There's been another murder."

Ryohei frowned and set his legs back on top of Hayato's desk. "I was following up on an extreme lead," he said with a nonchalant shrug.

Hayato could feel his brow twitch in annoyance. "Lead? Lead? What fucking _lead_? Don't you think you should inform your partner of these things, you bastard?!"

"Hey, hey. I called your cell but as usual," he rolled his eyes dramatically, "you didn't answer your phone. I got extremely impatient and checked it out myself. Except... it was disappointing to the extreme."

Hayato eyed his partner incredulously. "Are you serious? You came up with _nothing_? What was the lead?" He lit a smoke and blew the plume in his partner's direction.

Ryohei coughed emphatically and waved a hand in front of his face. "Sawada is gonna freak if he sees you smoking in here again. And what have I told you about that shit? I take my health very seriously, asshole."

"Tch, stop your complaining, you fucking pansy. Tell me about this stupid lead," Hayato said with a dismissive hand. He flicked the ash of his cigarette into the nasty coffee and took another long and euphoric drag.

Ryohei rolled his eyes again and placed his hands on the top of his white-haired head. His gray eyes narrowed intently. "So I went by my old boxing gym right, where I met up with one of my informants there. He tells me there's an extreme buzz in the red light district about some tall Asian dude that walks the streets down there dragging a big ass katana around like some fucking samurai out of the Edo period."

Hayato stopped his hand mid way to his mouth, the cigarette still pinched in between his thumb, index and middle finger. He glared at Ryohei.

Ryohei, paid no mind to his partner's glare, being immune to them for quite some time now. "Anyway, I called you but you being the asshole that you are, didn't answer your phone. So I asked Sawada for clearance and went by myself. Man, those courtesans are righteous little creatures aren't they? Like, to the extreme. I couldn't get a word outta them. Not a damn word and I even offered to pay them!"

"Idiot! Were you trying to get robbed?" Hayato scolded, finally bringing the cigarette up to his lips and taking a drag. He surveyed the main floor of the department where his desk was. A few uniformed officers had started to file into the station, greeting each other noisily with the fresh smell of brewed coffee and sugary sweet pastries.

The Tenth, or Tsuna rather, made a brief appearance before hurriedly rushing up to his second floor office without a glance in Hayato's direction. He frowned. He hated seeing his boss -his friend- upset and stricken with worry.

"Oi, Octopus Head! Are you listening?"

Hayato blinked and looked back over at the ex-boxer. "What is it, Lawn Head? Obviously wasn't something important enough to pay attention to," he sneered.

"That look's extreme, dude. Makes me want to punch your face. _I said _that I didn't have much money on me so that's probably why they didn't talk... or why I didn't get robbed. And you know, 'cause I'm an extreme cop."

Hayato scoffed. "Extreme my ass. You're fucking annoying, that's why they didn't speak to you. Had it been me, I would've gotten answers." He dropped the cigarette into the hours old coffee and listened to the embers fizzle in the liquid.

"If there is some guy like that in the red light district, he's probably just some freak doing cosplay. You know how those types get, they're fucking weird. And hey, some of the women down there like that sort of shit," Hayato remarked, pushing Ryohei's feet off his desk _again._

Ryohei pouted. "Your attitude sucks, man."

"Why? Because I don't want your fucking stupid feet on my desk?"

Ryohei ignored Hayato and arrogantly put his feet back on Hayato's desk. "Why don't you make me a bet? Let's go talk to my informant again and we'll head down to Sakura Town and we'll see how far _you _get."

Hayato snorted. "A bet? Haven't you learned anything from making bets with me?"

Ryohei put his feet down and leaned over the desk. "What? I'm a man, I can take it. One of these days, I'll win to the extreme."

"The last time I made you wear one of those school girl uniforms into the station and you cried when everyone laughed at you. You think you can handle worse?" Hayato smirked, raising a silver brow.

Ryohei laughed nervously and shrugged. "That was nothing, those were extreme tears of joy when I saw how happy I made everyone."

Hayato burst out laughing, receiving some dirty looks from the officers that were actually working. He knew most of the unis* hated him.

"Fine, you're on, Lawn Head. Go talk to Hibari and find out why the fuck the fingerprint scans and DNA results are taking so goddamned long. I've got to speak to the tenth."

"See," Ryohei said, standing and pointing a finger in Hayato's face. "That's another person that thinks I'm awesome to the extreme."

Hayato also stood, adjusting his black button up shirt and flicking up its collar. "Che, just because you haven't gotten a tonfa to your face doesn't mean Hibari likes you. Hibari doesn't like _anyone _except that fucking annoying yellow canary."

Ryohei laughed, waving a lethargic hand as he walked away. "Whatever man, if that's what you gotta tell yourself to get over your jealousy of me then alright, believe it."

Hayato rolled his eyes. "You're an idiot."

After watching Ryohei leave the pen - which is what they called the utterly cramped space all their desks were crammed together in, basically rubbing elbows with the next guy because the city didn't have enough money in their budget for a larger precinct, but they did have money for the corrupt politicians to get their rocks off, or snort the rocks up their noses or both - Hayato dragged himself up the stairs to the second floor where his boss's office was located and when he reached the door, he drew in a deep breath.

It wasn't that he was scared of their boss, Tsuna was a kind and gentle man - which made him so amazing at his job - but Hayato really hated to let him down. By the look of it, Hayato didn't have any information to offer Tsuna about this new case except now that there were three victims, all with the same MO*, the city of Namimori Middle was dealing with a serial killer.

Hayato exhaled and knocked sharply on the door.

"Come in," a kind, yet stern voice invited.

Hayato opened the door and stepped into his boss's office only to be greeted with a warm smile. "Ah, Gokudera-kun. Good morning."

'Gokudera-kun' was what Tsuna had called him all through school and the name just became so familiar, it was more of an honor for Tsuna to refer to him with that fond nickname rather than his given name, in Hayato's opinion.

"Good morning, Tenth! How was your evening?"

Tsuna had gotten used to Hayato calling him the "Tenth" throughout the years as well, though he always believed that Hayato was too formal in the way he addressed him and always urged him to call him by his given name, to which Hayato would always disagree. He held a high amount of respect for the smaller, wide-eyed man in front of him and it just wouldn't feel right to address him in any other fashion.

"My evening was... productive," Tsuna said with a chuckle. "I was up most of the night reviewing our budget. I really hate number crunching."

Hayato stepped into the office and took a seat in a chair opposite Tsuna's desk. "Would you like me to take a look? Math is my specialty," he beamed.

Tsuna chuckled once more, his bright chocolate brown eyes dancing with mirth despite the heavy burden of the city's corruption on his shoulders. "Thanks, Gokudera-kun, but I know you have enough on your plate already. Where are we in that new case that's now what - three homicides?"

Hayato frowned. He hated to be the one to wipe the broad smile of his boss's face. "So far we haven't gotten any leads and the CSU* has run into a few issues with comparing fingerprints and DNA to my understanding. We're nowhere close to identifying the bodies or the perpetrator. I'm terribly sorry, Tenth."

Tsuna sighed but with understanding. "Gokudera-kun, you haven't failed me yet. Sometimes these things take time. I'll order the lab to rush the results of anything pertaining to this case and I'll add a few more uniformed officers to patrol the streets. It'll stretch the budget thin, but I'm sure we'll manage. It'll be worth it if we can get this guy off the streets before the city is in a panicked uproar."

"Yes, Tenth but -"

Tsuna waved a dismissive hand and smiled. "Don't beat yourself up over this case, Gokudera-kun. You are amazing at what you do, your skills in deduction are remarkable. I'm sure you will figure out something soon. Just take your time... but not too much time," he said with a laugh.

Hayato beamed. It was always so nice to hear such words of endearment come from the Tenth, because Hayato had never received praise from anyone in his life and to have such a man compliment him in such a way made a warmth spread across his chest and his heart swell with pride. Tsuna was the only person Hayato has ever felt this way about and that was because he owed this man his life and for everything he had become.

"Thank you, Tenth... I will give Lawn Head-"

"Sasagawa-san," Tsuna corrected.

"-a call and see where he is with Hibari and the lab results."

Tsuna gave another warm smile. The two ridiculous nicknames Ryohei and Hayato had for each other stemmed back from when they were in school and referred to their style of hair. Because of Hayato's insecurity and his suspicious nature and because of Ryohei's competitive and enthusiastic nature they often created a constant and unnecessary rivalry between each other. And because of their equally short tempers, it resulted in them arguing and fighting which had Tsuna always separating the two. It was a gamble to partner them together when they came to work under Tsuna as detecives but despite their bickering, Tsuna knew they worked well together and that they'd have each other's backs at all times.

"Alright. I wish you good luck with that, Gokudera-kun. Please let me know what you come up with. Oh - that reminds me... How did Sasagawa-san's lead pan out yesterday?"

Hayato scoffed. "The useless idiot came up with nothing. However, I'm accompanying him to Sakura Town this afternoon for a follow up, just to be sure."

"Oh, okay then. Be careful down there, especially after dark," Tsuna warned. "But... I'm sorry, but I really must get back to my paperwork," he said with a nervous laugh.

"Sorry, Tenth, please excuse me. I'll get going now. If you ever need a hand with those numbers, please don't hesitate to ask me." Hayato rose from his seat and headed for the door.

"I will, Gokudera-kun. Thank you."

"Always a pleasure, Tenth."

* * *

Hayato sat at a bar later that night, swirling his ice cubes around in his whiskey tumbler and staring at them as if they would suddenly reveal the world's most greatest kept secret. His abandoned cigarette burned in the ashtray beside the hand that held the tumbler.

Seeng his boss so distraught was unnerving. He hated that he depended on Hayato and Hayato was doing nothing but letting him down. The tenth would never tell him that, he was too modest and never blamed anything on his friends but it didn't change the fact that Hayato felt that he was failing him. On days - or nights, rather - like these, Hayato always found himself drowning his anguish in a heady bottle of whiskey. Maybe two. Sometimes the alcohol, believe it or not, gave Hayato a clearer mind allowing him to work his logical brain over facts and clues that would help him solve a case. Except this time there wasn't any clues, no leads and nothing to go by and he fucking hated it.

After travelling to Sakura Town, which had a different name entirely but that's what the beat cops called it for the beautiful women who roamed the night for a man's pleasure and wallets, Hayato and Ryohei came up empty, just like before. Every one of the people they interviewed remained tight lipped, though Hayato could see troubling fear in their eyes. Something had them nervous, something had caused less thugs and less women crowding the streets out of terror. If only Hayato could figure out why, perhaps the issue was connected to the murders because surely, it wasn't the murders that had the people of Sakura Town afraid. Things like that happened there frequently.

Picking up the cast away cigarette just before it reached the invisible line of a non exisistant filter, Hayato took a long and thoughtful drag.

Perhaps the bodies and Sakura Town were somehow related. Hayato recalled the precise patches of skin that had been removed in odd, yet strategic places on each of the three bodies. Hayato had believed it to be just torture, this killer was really twisted, but now - what if they were removed to _hide_ something? Something like... identity, just how the heads had been taken. And Hibari's results had come back inconclusive, the fingerprints run through AFIS* had been too damaged for even the partials to draw results.

So clearly, the killer was trying hard not have the identities of these victims discovered. But why? Perhaps knowing the IDs of the men that had been sliced and diced would lead Hayato to the killer.

Finishing the last bit of whiskey in his glass, Hayato stood and scanned the bar for his next target. He didn't have to know their name, all that mattered was if he was attracted to them.

Random one night stands may be reckless but it was the best stress reliever in Hayato's eyes.

He spotted the person that had been burning holes in his back all night. He walked over to them and grabbed their wrist, grinning devilishly. He leaned in close and put his mouth on his target's earlobe.

"You're coming with me," he whispered harshly and it wasn't to his surprise when they didn't hesitate to follow him out of the bar and to the nearest hotel.

* * *

Hayato eased out of his nameless partner and pulled off the used condom, tying it off and tossing it to the motel's dirty orange shagged carpet. He walked over to the left side of the bed where he reached for his jeans to pull out the crumpled pack of cigarettes out of his back pocket.

As he lit one, he heard his target shift behind him and let out a sated sigh. He almost cringes at the after thought of his act because now he's starting to sober up and he realizes that fucking random patrons from the bars he inhabits is really a stupid idea. It's stupid because Hayato is always playing with fire, he's a cop with a lot of enemies and anyone can take this opportunity, when is guard is slightly lowered, to kill him. Or injure him. Or rob him. Or - could possibly be an UMA from another planet, sent to Earth to seduce and abduct him so that they may later probe him for experimental reasons.

He may be a logical man, but he believes there _is _other life out there, but that's something he keeps to himself. He wouldn't be taken serious as cop if everyone knew he believed in aliens, amongst other creatures like Bigfoot and the Loch Ness Monster.

It's stupid and he's an idiot, maybe even a bit of a bastard - no, he _is _a bastard - because he knows that sometimes he's the one that's hurting the other, because maybe to them there's feelings involved but Hayato is too selfish to care. He has never known love, therefore he's unable to convey any emotions that may pertain to it.

He felt an arm curl around his waist as he heard his phone vibrate in the pocket of his jeans, just as he was about to pull them on.

He swatted the arm away and answered his phone.

"Gokudera," he answered, clearing his throat. He listened intently to the dispatcher on the other line and felt fingers creep across his thigh. He swatted the hand away, angrily this time and an annoyed growl started low in his throat.

"Alright, I'll be right there," he said, hanging up the phone. He crushed his cigarette out on the bedside table and hurriedly got dressed.

"Leaving so soon?" came a voice from the bed.

"I've got shit to do," Hayato said with a cold shrug. He pulled out his wallet and ruffled through the wad of bills. He threw 20 500¥ on the bedside table and headed for the door.

"Thanks for your services," he said curtly.

"Hey! I'm not a prostitute, I don't need your money, asshole. I just... wanted to cuddle."

Hayato had to stifle a laugh but it came out a scoff anyway. "Tch, dumbass. I don't cuddle." And with that he walked out of the motel room without a backwards glance, got into his car and headed to the next crime scene of the serial killer's newest victim.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

**So I know that for some of you, the technical cop speak may be difficult to understand so I'll put an asterisk next to anything that may need a definition or explanation. If you see one, I'll always have the legend down here in the A/N.**

*** "UNIS" pronounced 'you-nee-s' , short for (uni)formed officer**

*** "CSU" - Crime Scene Unit**

*** "AFIS" - Automated Fingerprint Identification System, used for identifying fingerprints**

*** "M.O." - _Modus Operandi, _referring to the method of operation in which a criminal executes the crime he or she has been suspected of**


	3. Book I : My Saint : Chapter III

**_Chapter III_**

* * *

"Yo, Octopus Head! You made it and you're only a little bit drunk this time," Ryōhei said with a smack to the back of Hayato's head.

Hayato shot him a glare hot enough to melt metal and punched him in the arm. "Will you shut the fuck up, Lawn Head? How about you tell me what's going on since you seem to be in such a talkative fucking mood," he grumbled.

"Welp, it's just like the last three. Missing head, missing skin, lacerations to the arms and torso. This bastard is one messed up sicko. Only thing that's different are the abrasions on the guy's knuckles. Looks like this one actually put up a fight."

Hayato nodded and stared at the lifeless body with a ragged stump of a neck and a bloody mess, except there was no blood here at the scene. "Have the CSU swabbed the cuts for DNA and skin cells yet?"

"Yeah. Hey... why do you think the killer crosses their arms when he dumps them?"

Hayato shrugged. "Maybe it's for remorse of some sort? Or maybe a mythological thing?"

"Myth-o-what?"

"_Mythological_, air head. You know, like in ancient Greek mythology?"

"No, I don't know anything about that shit. You're the nerd."

Hayato snorted. "I'm not a nerd, you asshole. I just know things, it's called _intelligence_. Something you clearly lack."

Ryohei frowned. "I resent that to the extreme."

"Like I care."

"Well... are you going to tell me what you're talking about, or am I going to have to listen to another ten minutes of you stroking your overly extreme ego and insulting my intelligence?"

"I'm not insulting your intelligence if you don't have any to begin with," Hayato said with a smirk.

"You want me to punch you now or later?"

"Alright, fuck. Just shut up and _try_ to retain the information you're about to learn."

Ryohei scowled. "Go on."

"In Greek mythology, there's the River Styx in which the dead travel along to reach Hades, the Greek Underworld. It's believed that the ferryman, Charon, accepts a toll to allow the soul to pass through the river to one of the entrances of the Underworld. If the soul could not pay the ferryman, then they would be denied entrance forever bound in Purgatory. When the Greek buried their dead, they would cross the arms of their beloved to prepare for the narrow ferry and place a coin within their mouths to pay the toll... My guess is the killer's gesture is akin to the Greek myth, except there's no head for a coin to be placed in the mouth, no coins placed anywhere on the bodies, leaving no toll for the ferryman but preparing the body for the ride nevertheless." Hayato looked over at Ryohei to see if he had absorbed any of what he had said but the dumbstruck look on his face told Hayato he had no fucking clue.

"So... uh... what does that mean?" Ryohei asked, playing off like he understood it all.

Hayato rolled his eyes. "It means that the killer doesn't want these souls to pass through the Underworld, that they don't deserve a place to rest."

"Well, you don't actually believe that shit, do you?"

"Of course I don't. It doesn't mean the killer doesn't. This is like his signature, a message he's trying to convey."

"What is that message?"

Hayato sighed. "Honestly, how did you become a detective again?"

"Because I'm extreme."

Hayato rolled his eyes.

"You know, if you keep rolling your eyes like that, one day they're gonna roll right outta your head," Ryohei said pointedly, crossing his arms and scowling.

"Anyways, the message is something we have yet to figure out. What it means _exactly_. I have a feeling that once we figure out the ID's of the bodies, we'll know a whole hell of a lot more about this guy." Hayato looked over the body once more and noticed a small tattoo marking on the inside left ankle of the shoe and sockless male victim.

"Hey - did you see this?" he asked his partner.

Ryohei looked over at him quizzically. "See what?"

"This." Hayato bent down and pointed to the small tattoo, which looked like a sideways diamond with some sort of kanji written in the center, possibly a gang insignia.

"Huh... no, I didn't. Did the CSU?"

"Obviously not, retard, or they would have told us about it. Hey you," Hayato called to one of the CSU technicians who was photographing the surrounding area of the crime scene,"Give me a glove."

The lab tech walked briskly over to Hayato and pulled a fresh latex glove from his kit. "Find something, Gokudera-san?"

"Mm, I think so," he mused, slipping on the glove and turning the ankle over to get a better look. "Ah... this is the kanji for... destruction?"

The technician looked over Hayato's shoulder. "Yes sir, I believe so."

"Destruction... destruction... Hey, Lawn Head... isn't there a yakuza gang by the name of _Hakai Dīrā _that runs rampant in Sakura Town?"

Ryohei furrowed his brow in deep thought and then his eyes were wide with recognition. "Destruction Dealers to the extreme! Yo, Octopus Head! Do you know what this means? My informant was _right_."

"Photograph this, will you?" Hayato asked the technician.

"Yes sir." The CSU tech began snapping pictures of the tattoo.

"It doesn't mean anything, yet, Lawn Head. Definitely doesn't mean your informant was right about anything. This guy may have ties to the yakuza, but it doesn't mean that Sakura Town is connected. Not yet, anyway." Hayato could feel a surge of excitement. "Nevertheless, this is our first lead. Fuck, finally. I'm going to go back to the station and run the names of the gang members and see what I can come up with."

"Alright well, you don't need me there to hold your hand to the extreme, do you?"

Hayato glowered at him. "Fuck no, you'll only annoy the shit out of me."

Ryohei grinned. "Good, 'cause I got a bed callin' my name. Have fun, Octopus Head."

Hayato waved a dismissive hand at his partner and studied the exposed flesh of the corpse for more clues as Ryohei left the crime scene.

"Hahi! Gokudera-saan!" came a shrill voice of an annoying woman.

Hayato palmed his face and growled. Fuck, just what he needed. He stood and turned and called out to a uniformed officer. "Oi, you! Don't let that stupid woman beyond the tape!"

"But Gokudera-san, I've got some questions for you on the city's recent homicides!" she called, waving her hand. She bent down and went under the cautionary yellow tape that closed off the crime scene.

"Oi, what the fuck?!" Hayato shouted at the officer. He shrugged apologetically.

"Sorry, sir! She's got a police issued press pass."

Hayato growled again and marched over to the reporter before she could get closer to the body. "Who the hell would give you that kind of clearance?"

The reporter, whose name was Haru Miura, practically bounced over to him with a smug smile plastered to her face. "Tsuna-san did!"

"Don't call the Tenth's name with such familiarity, you stupid woman. What the hell do you want, you're invading my workspace."

"I," she began, jabbing a thumb at her chest, "have received the go ahead from Tsuna-san to write a piece on this case. He told me to talk to you."

Hayato walked away from the body, dragging Haru with him. "The Tenth would never allow this,' he said in a hushed voice, albeit angrily. "How did you manage to convince him, you swine?"

"Gokudera-san! You don't have to be so rude! Tsuna-san gave me some restrictions, but as editor in chief of the Namimori Middle Gazette, it is my duty to inform the people of what's newsworthy in our city!"

"Che, you ignorant pest! Just how do you figure four people being murdered is newsworthy? It will only create hysteria, is that what you want?"

"So it's now four murders?"

"_Shit_," Hayato hissed. She grinned triumphantly. "Oh! There's someone I want you to meet! He's an apprentice of mine, so he'll be working with me on this story."

"Oh great, more meddlesome annoyances," Hayato mumbled.

Haru turned back at the crowd that had started to form and waved a hand. "Yamamoto-san! Quick, come here!"

There was movement in the crowd and Hayato couldn't see past the officers who had gone stop an oncoming intruder. They looked back at Hayato for permission. Hayato sighed frustratingly and motioned his hand to allow the other reporter. He fished in his jeans pocket for his cigarette pack, pulled one out and lit it. By this time, the other reporter had arrived at Haru's side.

Hayato looked up from his cupped hands, formed around the flame of his lighter and instantly stilled. His breath seemed to have hitched in his throat.

"Gokudera-san, this is my newest Feature and Factual news reporter, Yamamoto Takeshi," Haru beamed, gesturing an offering hand at the man beside her.

Yamamoto Takeshi was a tall, olive skinned man with a long and lean build, looking like it had been sculpted through years of athleticism. He had raven black hair, short and sharp; but tousled and messily brushed upward. He wore square framed glasses that were thick and black and behind the lenses were large, almond shaped eyes that were caramel and chartreuse in colour, brighter and clearer than any hazel eyes Hayato had ever seen. He stood with an innocent yet confident posture, in a casual plaid over shirt and navy blue jeans. He had a camera hung around his neck and it's bag slung over his shoulder and chest, to which he clutched the strap of.

He offered his free hand -a large and slightly calloused hand- and smiled broadly, his eyes closing with the upwards movement of his cheeks in his blinding grin. "Hi!"

Hayato didn't understand it but there was a sudden flutter in the pit of his stomach, almost akin to anxiousness but not unease. He wasn't sure what to call it but he could certainly say he had never felt it before. His heart had quickened in pace and he realized he had forgotten to breathe. He didn't take the Japanese reporter's hand but thought he knew him from somewhere, he looked somewhat familiar. With a second of thought, he remembered. "Oi, aren't you a fucking sports columnist?"

Yamamoto withdrew his hand quickly, tossing it behind his head to rub at the back of his neck. "Oh, haha. Yeah, I used to be," he said sheepishly but still grinning. "But I mostly just covered baseball. Say, do you like baseball?"

Hayato snorted and took a drag of his cigarette. "As if. I don't follow sports."

"Haha, I see. I just thought you did because you knew who I was."

"Che, I have to pass your stupid mug plastered on that page to get to my Sudoku. And don't flatter yourself, I don't know nor care who you are. And frankly, if you're associating yourself with this woman-," he pointed an accusing finger at Haru,"- then you're going to be nothing but a nuisance to me."

"Gokudera-san!" Haru scolded. "My, you have such a foul temper! I honestly don't know how Tsuna-san can have someone like you working for him, you act as if the people of Namimori Middle are such an inconvenience to you!"

"Goddammit, woman! Do you always need to be so loud?! I don't need the entire fucking world to know what we're talking about here. And also, don't act as if you know what the Tenth is thinking! Or doing for that matter! In fact, you should just stay away from him-"

"I'm going to get you kicked off the force for your rudeness towards the people!" Haru interrupted.

Hayato threw down his cigarette and took a step towards the small framed, short haired woman with dark eyes as wide as saucers. "Don't you threaten me-"

"Ma, ma," Yamamoto laughed, intercepting Hayato before he could advance any further. "Let's try to calm down, ne?" He hesitantly lowered Hayato's raised fist, aimed for Haru, smiling kindly and seemingly not bothered about invading one's personal space or touching them, for that matter.

And when Hayato realized the man had touched him, he was instantly grounded by the soft brush of Yamamoto's fingertips as they left his arm, sending a sharp tingle down his spine and a wave of goose fleshed skin. He took an instinctive and wary step back, scowling to hide the sudden heat he felt in his cheeks and the tips of his ears.

"Are we done here, Miura? Because I've got work to do," Hayato spat angrily.

"Hmph." Haru crossed her arms and turned her back on him. "_I'm _done here. Deal with him please, Yamamoto-san," she said in a haughty tone. She stomped back towards the yellow tape without looking back.

"Haha, sorry," Yamamoto said, clearly embarrassed. "You two don't seem to get along too well."

"Che, no shit. Do you state the news the way you state the obvious?"

Yamamoto cocked his head with a smile. "Huh?"

_Am I surrounded by idiots? _"Never mind," he said with an aggravated sigh. "Look, it's late and unlike you people, I have an actual job to do. Are you going to ask me your dumb questions so I can get on with it?"

Yamamoto laughed and pushed his glasses up on his nose. "Right, right! Uh, can we go somewhere that's not here? Crime scenes still make me a little bit queasy."

"And yet you switched careers to follow factual news. What an idiot," Hayato scoffed. "Yeah, you can buy me a coffee and I'll answer your annoying questions - but don't make this a fucking habit, I'm only doing this at the request of my boss."

Hayato noticed the man practically jumped at the suggestion or maybe it was just the eagerness of his first story, but he was starting to become annoyed at the man's overly cheerful attitude.

* * *

Hayato wrapped his chilled hands around the steaming ceramic mug that held the aromatic black liquid that next to cigarettes was his favourite addiction. He watched impatiently as the clumsy looking man - whose smile alone made him look ten years younger and immature - rifle through his camera bag for items Hayato had already deemed unnecessary for this interview.

Finally, with a "Aha, I found it!", he pulled out a black, rectangular device and set it on the table. He looked at Hayato through the lenses of his glasses with glee and flashed a face splitting grin. "Mind if I record you?"

Hayato rolled his eyes and looked out the window at the freshly rising sun, it's orange glow forming a crescent shaped halo over the mountains beyond Namimori and soft tufts of pink rippled through the sky like cotton candy. "If you must," he said tiredly.

They sat in a small coffee shop just down the street from the precinct where Hayato frequented often, so often they knew him by name and preference.

"Great!" Yamamoto said with such enthusiasm it put Ryohei's to shame. He clicked a button on the side of the recorder and spoke promptly and professionally. He said his name, the date and who he was interviewing, which was something Hayato was familiar with since they followed a similar protocol for interrogations. To which he then thought this was more like an interrogation than an interview anyways.

"So, Gokudera-san... may I call you that?"

"Gokudera is fine," Hayato replied, taking a sip of his coffee.

"Haha, okay, Gokudera. Let's begin."

"Yes, let's. As I've said I have work to do."

"Is it true that there has been four murders in less than three weeks here in Namimori Middle?"

"Yes."

"And is it true that the victims have all been male?"

"Yes."

"Gokudera, would you say that this is the work of a serial killer?"

"I cannot say at this time, Yamamoto-san."

"Haha, Yamamoto is just fine too," he said with a smile and pushed the glasses back on the bridge of his nose.

Hayato was becoming more agitated by the minute. This guy laughed at everything. Did he really find murder this amusing? "Alright, baseball idiot."

"Haha, good one, Gokudera. Anyway, let's get back to the questions. Have you any leads or suspects in mind?"

"I'm not at liberty to discuss the leads nor suspects we may have."

"I see. So does that mean your department is incapable of catching this killer?"

Hayato set the mug down hard on the Formica table top that separated himself and the reporter, making a loud and hollow clanking sound. He narrowed his eyes and grit his teeth. "Are you implying my department is incompetent? Too incompetent to clean up this shit town of it's political corruption and rotten villainy and misconduct that spreads this place like a fucking malignant cancer? Are you implying that my boss isn't working his fucking ass off to bring this god forsaken shithole back up to a reputable city? Are you, Yamamoto-_san_?"

Yamamoto's smile quickly faded and was replaced with a gaping mouth and brows knit in frantic worry. He raised his hands defensively. "Oh no, I didn't mean that, really! I-uh, Miura-san asked me to memorize these questions just incase I needed to do the interview. That's not my impression of Sawada Tsuna at all! I-I apologize, Gokudera... I didn't mean to offend you." He frowned and lowered his head and hands, his eyes now focused on his newly fidgeting fingers.

Hayato took in a breath and exhaled it. His heart began to beat a little slower and the adrenaline he had felt coursing through his veins began to dissipate. He couldn't help but feel his quick cool down had something to do with the reporter who seemed too young and innocent to be into this kind of harsh reality that was this side of the world, _Hayato's_ side of the world. Looking at him now seemed to remind Hayato that not all people were like the scum he dealt with on a daily basis. That there were people out there that were just earnest, to green and naïve to know anything outside their perfect little bubbles but Hayato wouldn't have it any other way. It was simply because his boss was that type of man, less naïve than he had been in middle school, but certainly the same kind of man that was sitting here in front of him, looking defeated and upset.

Hayato let out another sigh, this time it was more out of exhaustion than anything else. "Look," he started, "we're doing all that we can to exhaust all efforts into apprehending this murderer. The people of Namimori shouldn't worry for they are under the care of a great man who will work his absolute _hardest _to bring this bastard to justice for his heinous crimes."

Yamamoto pushed his glasses back onto his nose and smiled. "That's an amazing thing to say, Gokudera. Can I quote you on that?"

Hayato's stomach began to flutter again and he suddenly wished desperately for a cigarette. "Yeah, whatever," he snapped. "Are we done here now? I haven't slept in over twenty four hours and -" He clamped his mouth shut. Why was he ranting to a complete stranger about his sleeping habits?

Yamamoto clicked the button on the side of the recorder again and nodded. "Yeah, I think I've gotten enough. I'm sorry for keeping you, Gokudera, but it was really nice to meet you," he said with a white, toothy grin.

Hayato felt a sudden seize of his chest. He really needed to get some rest, being up for twenty four hours, at least, and then all the stress on top of it - not too mention being mildly drunk just a few hours prior.

Yamamto Takeshi stood, adjusting the camera case at his hip and smiled one last time before leaving the coffee shop. "Have a good day, Gokudera! I hope we can talk again sometime soon." He boldly placed a hand on Hayato's shoulder and leaned in as he had said that and Hayato almost didn't register the words he had said because he had been too focused on the close proximity of their faces. That ultra bright smile had him blinded and the warmth of his large, clumsy hand on his shoulder had him reeling and for a minute he caught himself closing his eyes and inhaling the freshly clean and soapy sent of the reporter. And before he knew it, he felt a cold shock to his shoulder where the reporter's hand had been and when his eyes flew open in realization, Yamamoto Takeshi was already gone.


	4. Book I : My Saint : Chapter IV

**_Chapter IV_**

* * *

Now at the station, Hayato pulled out the individual case files for each murder that has occurred with the same M.O in the last month. There were only four victims, yesterday's being the most recent and he couldn't do much with that until he got the lab results back.

However, he was left with a clue. A simple mistake left by this calculated killer.

Looking back at the photographs taken of each body and the coroner's report, Hayato noted that the sections of skin removed from the bodies in sporadic areas were not at all irregular torture like he had assumed. It was now after seeing the _Hakai _insignia on the inside ankle of the latest victim he understood the reasoning behind the missing flesh.

It was to cover up who these men were, but it wasn't because the killer wanted their identities to go unknown to the police and the public.

It was to erase their very existence.

That's why he removed their heads, nicked all their hands and fingertips beyond recognition and lastly, removing any other characteristic that would give them a name.

Hayato had just made a major break in the case. Being able to profile a killer took skill and being able to profile a killer meant that he's just narrowed down the field of suspects.  
This killer was most likely an organized offender. In Hayato's mind, it's all ready made up but criminal profiling is always a maybe; always just following simple outlines. Serial killers can be rather complex and this one had started to prove that theory, but now Hayato is pretty sure he's got him figured out.

Now all he needed was motive.

The chatter of officers and the ringing of phones was starting to grate on Hayato's already sleep deprived brain and for a quick second, he became distracted with a face that flashed through his memory.

A face with bright hazel eyes behind thick framed glasses and a mouth with full lips spread upwards into a wide grin.

Hayato groaned and rubbed his temples. He squeezed his eyes shut and tried to erase the face -_that_ _smile - _that's been haunting him since he left the coffee shop five hours ago.

It didn't work.

_Fuck. _

He couldn't concentrate like this, all these people and all this unnecessary buzz of noise were annoying him; making him wish he had some sort of explosive to use to get them all to permanently shut up. He _really _needed his own office.

And a cigarette.

Gathering up his notes and the photographs, he slipped his glasses into his button up shirt pocket and headed for the roof. It was the only place he knew he could get relative silence and a smoke at the same time.

He went up the stairs to the fire escape. He let the heavy door slam behind him and took in a deep breath. Tucking the folders and files under his arm, he reached into his jeans and pulled out his cigarettes. He cupped the flame from the lighter and pulled in a long drag when it was lit. Exhaling, he moved away from the door and sat on the flat asphalt roof, surveying the sky line. There weren't many high rises in Namimori Middle, not like Tokyo by any means, but the ever present drone of sirens and traffic made it sound more like a bustling concrete jungle than a mere city.

For a quick second, he lay down on the rooftop, allowing the warm sun to soak into his skin. He closed his eyes and puffed on his cigarette and tried to think.

The informant of Ryohei's was an ex boxer too, except he had quit because he preferred heroin coursing through his veins rather than adrenaline but he still hung around the gym Ryohei used to train at. Hayato also knew he got his drugs from the _Hakai Dīrā_, which put him in Sakura Town and could validate his information. But Hayato and Ryohei weren't getting anywhere with the people in Sakura Town and they had three other victims unaccounted for. What he needed to do was find a low on the food chain _Hakai _thug and shake him down for some answers and see if there were any more missing members. Judging by the size and location of the tattoo on the most recent victim, he wasn't an important member or a newer one.

_Slam! _

"Gokudera-kun?"

Hayato jerked his head up and was greeted with Tsuna's warm chocolate brown eyes.

"T-Tenth... good morning."

"Good morning." He smiled, then frowned. "But it looks like you haven't slept. Have you?"

"Please don't worry about me, I'm really quite alright."

Tsuna opened his mouth to say something but then Hayato jumped up from his laying position with animated excitement.

"Oh! I think I might have found a break in the case!"

Tsuna stepped back and grinned, his eyes lighting up with confidence. "Really? That's great! What did you find?"

"Last night's victim is a member of a yakuza gang in Sakura Town, _Hakai Dīrā_. Since there are no missing patches of skin on this one, I'm lead to believe the killer missed the small tattoo on the inside of the man's ankle. I haven't made an ID just yet, the computer is searching out records for any offenders matching that description."

"Wow, that's amazing, Gokudera-kun!"

Hayato laughed uncomfortably. "Not really, Tenth... It was thanks to the killer's mistake that I managed to find this clue."

"I suppose," Tsuna mused. "But you're still an amazing detective. I know you say not to worry about you but I do. As your boss _and _your friend and I can tell you haven't been sleeping... not to mention the other things I'd rather _not _mention." He eyed Hayato knowingly.

Hayato felt his face get hot. "Sorry, Tenth..."

"It's fine, it isn't my business what you do outside work as long as you don't bring it here. Though you've come up with this information impressively, go home and rest. Let Sasagawa-san handle the case."

"But... Tenth... "

Tsuna shook his head. "I'm sorry, Gokudera-kun but this is non negotiable. It's a direct order from your boss. Go home and sleep and let your partner handle the rest. He wouldn't be a detective if I didn't think he was capable. Right?"

Hayato sighed. He had failed the tenth again, this time shaming him. "Yes, of course... My apologies."

Tsuna laughed and put a hand on Hayato's shoulder. "You don't have to say that, just go home and go to sleep. I'll fill in Sasagawa-san when he returns from the lab."

Hayato crushed his cigarette under his heel and bent down till retrieve his notes.

"I'll take those," Tsuna said with a smile.

"Tenth... "

"Gokudera-kun, you're so stubborn sometimes," Tsuna remarked endearingly. "It'll be alright, you'll need something for Sasagawa-san to look over so he can run with your theories, no?"

Hayato gave a weak smile and nodded. "As expected of the Tenth. I'll be on my way then. I hope you enjoy your day."

Tsuna smiled and squeezed Hayato's shoulder. "We'll call you if there's any news."

"Thank you, Tenth."

Hayato followed Tsuna back into the precinct and left him at the bottom of the stairs with a wave goodbye. Though he was anxious to get started on this new lead, he was relieved to be going home to sleep.

He lived a short drive from the station, about ten minutes to be exact. He parked his car in the driveway, checked the mail and fumbled for his keys. He walked through his door and threw the mail on the console table by the closet. His first destination was the shower.  
Stepping into the dimly lit bathroom, he caught sight of his reflection in the mirror. One of his favourite features about himself was his hair. It was like a namesake, one of the few things he had left of his mother's and he prided himself on keeping it trim, cut so it fell in layers around his face and framed his slender neck. His sister often commented on how similar the cut was to his uncle's, the only real father figure Hayato had ever really had. They were they only ones who knew his location in Japan and didn't visit him often, which was a relief.

Except now his hair was looking dull, probably from a lack of nutrients in his diet because this case had him living on edge. Even his vibrant green eyes were lackluster, only standing out because of the dark bags encircling them. He grimaced, he hated how strung out he looked. Hayato was a man that prided himself not only on his mind but on his looks too. He was a rather vain and conceited kind of man with bad etiquette and a worse temper and the only person that didn't get that side of him was Tsuna.

He turned on the faucet and tested the water before turning on the shower head. Then he stripped out of his day old clothes and stepped into the bath, letting the almost scalding water patter on his skin and bleed the stress out of his aching muscles. The steam had a lulling effect as it engulfed him and Hayato found his mind drifting to the obnoxious reporter and his brilliant smile.

Hayato had never told anyone about his sexual preferences, not even Tsuna. He never really considered himself gay, he just figured with all the problems he had with the women in his past, namely his cruel stepmother and psychotic sister, it was no wonder he'd have an issue with the opposite sex. He did find men attractive, yes, but for Hayato it was a little more complex than that. Maybe even a little sadistic. There was something in preying on weaker men, being able to dominate them that turned him on. Maybe it was the need to feel superior to feed his preexisting ego or maybe it was to gain some control in his chaos that was his life. For Hayato, sex has never been about feelings and emotions, it's pure primitive instinct for him, the act of releasing pent up stress and frustration and it has _never _resulted in him feeling anymore than just that.

So when he kept thinking of pounding the reporter hard into a mattress, or floor or against the wall, he could understand the primal want.

What he couldn't understand is why he _couldn't _stop thinking about these things, or that annoying laugh or the bright smile he flashed too many times unnecessarily.

He tried hard to focus on the case but all throughout his shower, brushing his teeth and getting dressed, he couldn't think about anything else. It was beginning to drive him mad, to the point where he actually began resenting the reporter _immensely_.

Hayato was tired enough to sleep but when he tried, it didn't come. His mind had too much thought traffic, mostly about fucking the reporter or blowing him up for relentlessly annoying the shit out of him. He thought over the case too, but he hadn't figured out anything he didn't already know.

He knew of only two ways to fix this problem and that would be to either get drunk or take some sleeping pills. Hayato was never one for medication, he believed in letting the body heal itself but being a cop and seeing what he saw on an almost daily basis, he often needed an aid when it came to being able to sleep.

He didn't want to get drunk either, he was a little tired of feeling like shit and after Tsuna had mentioned his 'other activities' he knew he had been talking about him getting drunk pretty much every night, and showing up reeking of alcohol was completely unprofessional and shameful to his boss.

So he opted for the sleeping pills, just because his mind was racing and he couldn't stop thinking. He downed them with a shot of whiskey though, even though he knows he shouldn't be mixing the two but Hayato is reckless, if not heedless.

He curled up in his bed, pulling the blankets over his head and waited for sleep to take him.

* * *

There was an annoying buzzing sound that seemed to get louder and louder and it annoyed the shit out of Hayato. He had been having a dreamless sleep that was too wonderful to wake out of except the stupid buzzing wouldn't stop. With a groan, he stuck his arm out from his warm cocoon to the bed side table and grabbed his vibrating cell phone off the surface. He didn't bother to check the number, the only time he ever got phone calls were from people at work.

"What?" he answered harshly.

"We found a match, asshole. Get over to the station when you can." It was Ryohei.

"Wh-what? A match? To the latest victim?"

"Yeah, that's what I said."

"Well who is it?"

"You're annoying to the extreme, Octopus Head. I'll tell you when you get here." And he hung up.

Hayato was intrigued. He got out of bed and got dressed, choosing something a little more professional to wear to work since he had been so much of an embarrassment to the tenth lately. He settled on a dark red dress shirt and dark blue denims, slim the way he likes them with a thick black belt and large silver buckle, and a fitted black blazer. He brushed out his hair and replaced the small hoops he had in his left ear to small silver studs, barely even noticeable. He thought about removing some of the many rings he wore on his fingers but he just felt too naked without them.

When he was satisfied about his appearance, he left his house and drove to the station not even bothering to take a look at the time but judging from the sun hanging in the middle of the sky, it was almost evening. He hadn't gotten much sleep.

He walked into the station to find Ryohei sitting ever so nonchalantly at _his_ desk with his feet on _his _desk reading through a folder.

"Hey, Lawn Head, what the fuck? Don't you have your own desk to violate?"

Ryohei looked up. "Oh. It didn't take you as extremely long as I'd thought you'd be, with that fancy get up of yours. You take longer to get ready than a chick does, to the extreme."

"Fuck you," Hayato said with a smirk. "So, tell me who the victim is and stop wasting precious time, asshole."

"Right." Ryohei took his feet off the desk as Hayato sat in the chair opposite his desk, chugging down the coffee he had picked up on the way. "The victim's name is Ikeda Nosaru, age twenty-one. Born here in Namimori to deceased parents Ikeda Tsubasa and Mizuki. He is a member of the_ Hakai_, became one two years ago after the death of his parents. He's already got an extreme rap sheet. Three counts of armed robbery, two counts of assault, pending assault with a deadly weapons charge - it's a wonder how the hell he was still out walking around."

Hayato snorted. "No it isn't, the yakuza has most of those lawyers and judges in their pockets. Question is, who keeps sticking their neck out for him? He seems like he was a lower class thug," Hayato mused looking through the file. "At least we know what he looks like. Was there a last known address, next of kin?"

Ryohei shook his head. "No family labeled in the reports but his last known address is an apartment above a ramen shop in Sakura Town."

"Well we should go there then and check it out. Something in his belongings might tell us who the killer is."

"Gokudera-kun?"

Hayato turned around to see his boss eyeing him suspiciously. "Hello again, Tenth," he said with a smile.

"I vaguely remember telling you to stay at home and sleep," Tsuna said with a smile, tapping his chin.

"Ah, but _I_ vaguely remember _you_ telling me if anything changes, you'll let me know, so that's why I'm here. Lawn Head-"

"Sasagawa-san," Tsuna interjected.

"- has an ID on our last victim."

"Really? That's great news!"

"Yeah, me and this guy are gonna go check out his apartment for clues to the extreme," Ryohei said.

"Actually, I just got off the phone with Haru, Gokudera-kun-"

"Ah shit," he groaned.

"And she told me about last night. However, I don't hold it against you. I know how pushy she can be," Tsuna said with a laugh.

"As expected of the Tenth... thank you for understanding," Hayato replied with a smile.

Ryohei put his feet back on his desk. Hayato turned and glared at him while Ryohei smirked.

"Don't slack off in front of the Tenth, Lawn Head," he said through gritted teeth.

"Gokudera-kun, there is one favour you can do for me to make up the Haru incident from last night. If you don't mind," asked Tsuna.

"Of course, anything for you, Tenth."

"I have a live press conference for the six o'clock news to attend to - that's in half an hour. I would like if you could accompany me as the lead detective for this case."

"But I -"

"Sasagawa-san can handle the investigation for a little while, can't you?"

Ryohei nodded. "To the extreme."

Tsuna smiled. "I've already asked Hibari-san to aid you, on account of Gokudera-kun's absence but since he's returned, I'll have to borrow him again."

"You got it, boss."

Hayato sighed inwardly. Press conferences. How annoying. He'd have to see that stupid woman. God he hated her.

* * *

Hayato had never really had stage fright, he didn't like people and their stupidity, but he didn't fear speaking in front of them or being in the spot light. He's done a few press conferences before and they're all the same. Too many flashing lights, too many annoying people and too many questions - even ones about his personal life. Sometimes it made him a little uncomfortable, to have all the eyes focused on him and sometimes he allowed his insecurities to draw up old memories of the eyes that had fallen on him once upon a time in Italy; full of judgment, disgust, hatred and pity. Nevertheless, he was a confident man and with the tenth by his side, he was even more sure of himself.

Except this conference was a little different.

Hayato was in the middle of answering a radio station emcee's question when he decided to take that time to scan the sea of faces beyond the microphones, recorders and flashing camera lights. And then his eyes fell... on _him_. And they locked with his, and for Hayato time stood still. For a short minute, it seemed Hayato and the reporter were the only two in the room.

The reporter with the sun kissed skin and wide smile; the reporter with the alluring hazel eyes behind such suitable stark frames; the reporter with the long and lean body that looked so fucking seductive pressed down in to a -

"Gokudera-san?"

Hayato tore his gaze away from Yamamoto, who sat back in his steel chair, arms crossed and thin brow arched amusingly. He wore a lazy grin this time, where only right side of his mouth curled up, his full lips looking so -

"Gokudera-kun?"

He blinked several times, even tried to shake the images flooding his head and fuck, he could feel the burning heat spreading across his cheeks and the tips of his ears. Hayato cleared his throat and looked over at Tsuna apologetically. "S-sorry," he said. He looked back out into the crowd, trying to find the emcee that had been asking him the questions. "I'm sorry, could you repeat the question?" he asked when he found him.

The emcee cocked his head quizzically. "Have any of the victims been identified yet? There's been a rumor going around that all the victims were mutilated beyond recognition."

Hayato needed to be careful here. He couldn't reveal that the killer had made a mistake just yet, because it would risk alerting him and causing him to be more cautious in his next kill. "We have decided not to release the identities of victims to the public just yet," he answered carefully.

"What about the mutilation?" asked the emcee.

"We cannot discuss details of an open murder investigation," Hayato replied.

"Is it true this is the work of a serial killer?" asked another reporter. She was female, with short wavy black hair.

"We have not established a pattern currently, nor a link between victims. It's still early and we have a lot of work ahead of us."

"But, do you really think you have the time?" asked the wavy haired reporter. "They've killed four people in such a short while. Can you really afford another body?"

"Well-"

"The Namimori police department is doing their best with the information and data they have recovered from each crime scene. They are dedicated officers that believe in protecting Namimori Middle District. True, we cannot afford another victim, nor a panic to rise from the people of this city but our officers are working hard to follow every lead we are given, every clue and suspect we are lead to. Now, if you'll excuse us, we must get back to solving this case, it is of the upmost importance to us. Thank you, that concludes this conference."

Hayato looked up at his boss as a slew of questions ensued. "Tenth...," he whispered under his breath. He had never felt so proud to call this man his best friend. Tsuna looked down at Hayato and smiled.

"Let's get out of here," he said with a laugh. "These questions are getting to be too much."

They walked out through City Hall and down the long stairway when Hayato heard a shrill voice that sent a jarring shiver up his spine.

"Tsuuuuuna-saaaaan!"

Hayato groaned. While he wanted to leave, he had to stay with the tenth and protect him from that vile woman.

"Ha-Haru!"

Haru Miura and Tsuna had lived on the same street when they were younger but Hayato didn't know much about her, just that she was annoying and bothered the tenth. A lot. Not that he ever said so, but Hayato found her to be a pest - his boss was just too nice to say anything.

He turned around after Tsuna to see Haru marching down the steps... and Yamamoto trailing behind her.

_Is this fucking guy her personal lackey or something? Fuck, why is he EVERYWHERE I go? _

Hayato couldn't begin to describe the growing impatience he had towards infuriating people today, especially ones with vexatious laughs that just painfully rang right through you.

"Haha, Gokudera! Nice to see you again! You were great in there!" Yamamoto said cheerfully, rubbing the back of his head.

"Che, it wasn't a performance, idiot."

"Gokudera-kun..."

"Tsuna-san, Haru would like a word with you regarding Gokudera-san's impolite and ill-mannered attitude! It really reflects on your department as a whole, you know!"

"You stupid woman, don't you dare insult the Tenth!" Hayato took a step forward to get between Haru and Tsuna.

"Gokudera-kun, really it's okay. Haru, I told you before, Gokudera-kun was just tired. This case has him overworked-"

"But Tsuna-san!"

"Don't interrupt the Tenth, you vile snake!"

"Gokudera-kun!"

"Ma ma, Gokudera... Miura-san, please... let's all try to calm down," Yamamoto said with a grin. He pushed the glasses up on his nose and adjusted the strap of the camera bag still slung around his shoulder.

Gokudera shot him a glare. "You..."

"Look, I will speak with Haru, Gokudera-kun. Why don't you take the evening off and continue your rest?"

"Tenth... about the case..."

"Sasagawa-san and Hibari-san are doing all that can be done right now. Please, I insist."

"If the tenth insists..." Hayato sighed.

"Gokudera, I know this really great place, we could go get a drink there. Would you like to come?" asked Yamamto, raising an inquiring brow.

"Che... as if I'd be caught dead anywhere with you, baseball idiot. The tenth said rest, not lower my IQ with sheer idiocy."

"Wow," Yamamoto said with a laugh. "So cruel."

"Actually, Gokudera-kun... Haru and I spoke about it earlier and Yamamoto will be following the story from here on out. Perhaps it's best you get acquainted with him better. I'd really like if you could try to get along with him," Tsuna said with his brightest smile.

When the tenth smiled like that, there wasn't any way Hayato could object.


	5. Book I : My Saint : Chapter V

_**Chapter V**_

* * *

"I really hate being here with you. Just thought I'd clarify that," Hayato said, lighting a cigarette.

They sat on the patio of a bar that Hayato didn't know the name of and it was probably because it was way classier than the dives he frequents. He doesn't visit these kinds of places because the drinks are too expensive and the men here were either straight or had more confidence and self respect than the men Hayato usually took home. Thinking about it that way, soberly, almost was enough to make Hayato feel shameful but he had himself convinced that he doesn't put thought into these things, it's all solely impulsive.

The night air was warm and balmy, only a gentle breeze blew every so often, tousling Hayato's hair. There were elegant paper lanterns strung across the high, wooden arbors that framed the patio, adding a soft yellow glow that spread evenly along planked veranda. There was little noise coming from the streets or the patrons, and Hayato could hear subtle chamber music playing on the loud speaker outside. He had to admit it was a really nice place, even if he was here with someone that soured his mood so easily.

Yamamoto smiled as he set down the drinks on the table he had just retrieved from the bar. "Aw, I can't be that bad. You don't even know me."

"Nor do I have a desire to. I'm only here because the Tenth asked me to come."

"Haha, why do you call him 'the Tenth'? It's kind of an unusual name."

Hayato rolled his eyes and let out an exasperated sigh. "He's the tenth generation chief of police for Namimori Middle District. It's an honorable title."

"Oh, I see. Have you known him long?" Yamamoto sat down and took a swig of his beer.

Hayato followed suit and took a sip of his double whiskey, on the rocks. He debated on beer, but decided he'd rather have something that didn't leave your mouth tasting like shit after the first three you drank and that he'd need something a little stronger if he had to deal with this idiot for the night. He tapped the ash off his cigarette into the glass ashtray on the patio table. "I've known him since I was fourteen."

"Oh wow, that's amazing to have a friend for such a long time! How did you guys meet?"

"Tch... is this going to be an entire night of Q and A from you? Because if so, I think I'll leave after this drink."

"Haha, sorry, sorry. It's a bad habit, occupational hazard," Yamamoto said with a nervous laugh, scratching the back of his neck.

"Che."

"Well... what do you want to talk about? I mean, we don't know each other, so wouldn't questions be appropriate right now?"

"Idiot... you ask too many of them and I'm a cop with a lot of enemies. If the information I give you, even if you say it's off the record, gets out then that would cause a lot of problems for me. Why don't you just shut up and drink?"

"Aha, okay... say, why don't you and Miura-san get along? Is she an ex girlfriend or something?"

Hayato stopped mid drag to glare at Yamamoto incredulously. "Are you mad? Ha! As if. I just dislike her. A lot. She's rude and unprofessional, loud and annoying and way too familiar with the Tenth." He brought the whiskey glass to his lips.

"Aaah, I see now. You... are in a relationship with your boss?"

Hayato nearly spat out his drink. "Wh-what?!" Unbelievable. This guy was unfuckingbelievable. "I-I... I am not in a relationship nor do I have romantic feelings towards my boss! And... and! What did I tell you? Your questions are too personal and irritating! Just shut up and drink!"

Yamamoto laughed. "I'm sorry! It's just the way you look at him... and the way you jump on his every whim. It looks like love to me," Yamamoto said, gazing out into the red glow of the traffic beyond the patio.

Hayato angrily crushed his cigarette into the ashtray. "That's it, we're done here." He moved to get up but as he attempted to leave the table, a cool hand wrapped around his wrist. A shot of electricity shot up his arm. He looked down to see Yamamoto staring up at him through his glasses.

"Please... don't go. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to be so forward. Haha, I'm not really good with these kinds of things. Words... I'm not so good with them."

Hayato scowled at him and sat back down, finishing his drink in one gulp. "I respect the tenth, a lot. That's it. Ask me something like that again and I'm leaving."

Yamamoto withdrew his hand from around Hayato's arm, his fingers - Hayato could almost _swear _it was purposely_-_ brushing along his skin. They left behind a trail of warm heat that made the skin on his arm bump.

"Sorry," he said sheepishly. "I'm always making you angry, aren't I?"

Hayato looked up from his glass and felt some sort of _pang _in his chest. Yamamoto looked like little puppy, defeated and sad but with bright hopeful eyes and if he had a tail, Hayato was sure he'd be wagging it at the way his eyes lit up when Hayato glanced at him.

"Why did you choose to become a journalist? You said you're no good with words, right? Don't you have to be in your profession?" Hayato asked with a scoff.

Yamamoto smiled. "Yeah, I guess so. I... I just wanted to try out the news for a change. I'd never get tired of sports, especially baseball, but I thought I'd try something a little more serious." He shrugged.

"Serious doesn't suit you," Hayato said, lighting another cigarette.

"Really?" Yamamoto laughed. "I can be serious."

"Ha, I don't think so. You haven't stopped smiling or laughing since I met you. Why do you think everything is funny?"

Yamamoto shrugged again. "What's the point in getting upset or angry? It's just a waste of energy and it doesn't feel good." He finished his beer. "Did you want another drink?"

Hayato took the empty glass in his hand and eyed it, as if he was willing it to fill with more alcohol. "I suppose I could use another," he said flatly.

"Haha, okay." Yamamoto took their glasses back to the bar and came back a few moments later with a beer, his whiskey and a two shot glasses. He put one shot in front of Hayato along with his whiskey, and set the beer and other shot on his side of the table.

"Oi," Hayato said with a dry laugh. "Now, I'm not one to complain about more booze, but are you sure _you _can handle more, baseball freak?"

"Haha, baseball freak... You have some strange names you call people. I can handle my alcohol," Yamamoto said with a grin.

"What are those anyways?" Hayato nodded to the shot glasses.

"Tequila," Yamamoto said, his grin spreading wider.

"I hope this isn't a bullshit attempt to get me drunk so I'll tell you details of the investigation," Hayato said, raising a suspicious silver brow.

Yamamoto grinned and took up his shot glass. "Are you sure _you _can handle more booze, Gokudera-san? I mean, if two glasses of whiskey and a shot of tequila is going to make you drunk, maybe we should stop drinking."

"Che, I can handle my alcohol, you bastard. Probably better than you!" Hayato took his shot glass and downed it's contents, then shot back his whiskey in two gulps. He grinned at Yamamoto. "I'll go grab myself another round," he smirked.

Yamamoto raised his long eyebrows and drank his tequila, handing the empty shot glass to Hayato. "You can get me one too," he said smugly, narrowed eyes and wry grin taught on his lips.

Hayato liked that look. There was something behind the thick framed glasses in those hazel eyes. There was a dark spark in them, something like a competitive edge and for once, Hayato saw that maybe there was a serious side to him. He liked sports and had an athlete's body, maybe he had been a jock and that's where he got that competitiveness from, that determined and focused look he had in his eyes just now, like he was challenging Hayato.

Hayato returned with their drinks and a sort of silent drinking competition ensued. Yamamoto wasn't lying when he said he could handle his booze, he was doing a pretty good job at keeping up with Hayato. Although, the more inebriated he became, the more touchy-feely he became, clasping Hayato's arm when he said something funny or accidently brushing against his hand when reaching for their drinks on the crowded table. Every time he touched Hayato, there was a jolt or tingle or some sort of feeling that had him reeling and distracted.

Hayato also thought that though the reporter was annoying as fuck, there was just something about him that intrigued him. There was something about the reporter that had Hayato sitting in this classy bar, getting drunk _again_ despite his earlier want _not to_ with a man he barely knew - which wasn't much of an issue for him - that could potentially ruin his case or even more, his career.

Unfortunately though, Hayato was a reckless person and often enjoyed living dangerously - although the next day, when he's sober, it'll be living stupidly - and there was just something about the reporter that had him throwing out all his inhibitions. Or maybe that was the alcohol.

"Do you always dress like that?" Hayato asked, commenting on the reporter's casual attire. He wore a yellow sports jacket with a white t-shirt underneath and black jeans. Hayato had never seen a reporter dress as loosely as Yamamoto did.

"Haha, it's comfortable. Why, what's wrong with my clothes?"

"Aside from the obvious? I've never seen reporters dress like that."

"Haha, well you're used to Miura-san. She's always got a suit skirt on. It's nice and all, but it doesn't look real comfortable. Do you always dress like that?"

Hayato downed his fifth shot of tequila. "What are you talking about?"

"Well... yesterday you were wearing that black button up shirt and it wasn't buttoned up. And you were wearing a tank top underneath. _And_ your jeans are really tight. I've never seen a police officer wear such..." Yamamoto shot back his fifth round of tequila. "... seductive clothing before."

Hayato scoffed. "Have you got a problem with my clothes?"

"Maybe they'd be better... off?"

* * *

Hayato didn't know how a conversation about clothing resulted Yamamoto's being shed on a motel room floor in a sudden blur of blinding lust.

Hayato also didn't know why he had an overwhelming urge to fuck Yamamoto into a senseless oblivion, why he's had such a strong animalistic attraction to this man since the first time he laid eyes on him. Right now he had the reporter slammed up against an ugly floral wallpapered wall, with one of Yamamoto's long legs draped over the crook of his arm, begging Hayato for more.

He didn't know why he decided to not focus on the reporter's hard and anticipating cock but instead slide two fingers down and across his perineum right to his rimmed muscle. He drove them in dryly, eliciting a cry from Yamamoto and he smirked. He looked over at the reporter's face, who's eyes were squeezed shut behind fogged glasses and mouth drawn open from the pain, and that's when he realizes he's getting some sadistic pleasure in the way he's able to wipe the man's smile right off of his face and replace it with such a contorted look.

He did know, however, that he was surely going to regret this in the morning and would be blaming it all on the alcohol.

"Yamamoto, you're so tight... Are you... are you a virgin?" he asks smugly, pressing in deeper, passed the second knuckles, stroking his walls and watching the reporter's face all the while.

He knows he's hit the right spot when Yamamoto's breath hitches and he clutches the fabric of Hayato's shirt at the shoulders. He cries out again, softer this time; a more pleasurable sound.

"So-sort of," Yamamoto squeaks.

Hayato returns to biting and sucking Yamamoto's neck and asks, "How are you _sort of_ a virgin?"

"I-I've _aah_ n-never _shit_ done it - _Oh,_ _Gokudera!_ ... before..."

Hayato doesn't respond, he focuses more on the stroking and twisting of his fingers and the trail of bite marks he's left along Yamamoto's collar bone.

"_Please _Gokudera, I want you... inside me," he pleads through bated breath, clenching around Hayato's fingers.

Hayato laps the back of his ear with his tongue. "Are you sure you want to lose your virginity is to a complete stranger?" he asks through a smirk. He moves in a third finger, slower this time, just to add a little more pressure.

Yamamoto's digging his fingernails into the back of Hayato's neck and he has his back arched, head tilted against the wall and he pants, "It's not _unh_l-like that, I-I like _nnh _G-Gokudera."

Hayato felt heat creep into his cheeks and he bit down hard on Yamamoto's ear lobe. "Idiot... to say such things... you really are a fool."

Yamamoto pants rests his head on top of Hayato's. "I want... to kiss you."

Hayato sinks his teeth into the juncture of Yamamoto's neck and shoulder. "I said no kissing, idiot."

"But- _aah!_"

Hayato moves in the third finger as far as it'll reach in response to Yamamoto's protest. "I said no."

Yamamoto doesn't say anything, he just rolls his head to the other side and moans from pleasurable pain while Hayato scissors his hole.

Hayato feels the leg Yamamoto is using to support himself while standing is starting to tremble and the one hung over Hayato's arm has probably already gone numb.

This is so against Hayato's rules, he doesn't fuck virgins, he doesn't fuck people he knows, _definitely _not reporters working the same case as him but fuck. Something about the way Yamamoto calls out his name, the way he pleads for more of him and that look on his. face. Fuck. It has Hayato losing control.

"On the bed, on your knees," Hayato demands, removing his fingers hastily and leaving Yamamoto to whimper. He drops Yamamoto's leg and steps back, divesting himself of his shirt.

Yamamoto stands, albeit shakily, and moves over to the bed, nearly falling into into the center. Before turning over like Hayato told him to, he eyes the silverette in the face and spreads his legs, taking a hold of his own cock in his hands.

Hayato stills for a minute, almost captivated by this display of eroticism, his heart racing a mile a minute. He reaches into his pocket to the square foil packets he always keeps with him and doesn't hesitate to tear it open once he's gotten rid of his pants.

He holds Yamamoto's gaze, every so often drifting down to the chiseled chest to the hardened cock being pumped. Hayato chewed on his bottom lip. _Fuck this guy. Fuck. _

Hayato slips the latex on and walks over to the bed. He doesn't realize it but his face is flushed and he's licking his lips, his eyes are half lidded with lust. All he can think about is taking this man, something he's been wanting to do since they first met.

He opens another foil packet, this time it's a lubricant that Hayato never really uses, but for some reason he doesn't want to hurt him. He can't really explain it because though it's all about control and dominance for Hayato, he wants Yamamoto to enjoy it just as much as he's going to.

The polite thing to do would be to ask him if he's sure he wants to go through with this, after all Hayato is about to take his virginity. Neither of them are children and Hayato has to wonder how such a gorgeous, sex driven man like Yamamoto has been like this for so long because Hayato's pretty sure he wouldn't have a problem with finding someone to fuck him. Especially when he's staring at you dead in the face, while he strokes his own cock and begging you to fuck him.

So instead Hayato says, "Turn around."

Yamamoto is obedient and turns over on the mattress, his hips raised up and ready. Hayato lines himself up against Yamamoto and slides one finger coated with lube into him, then two, then three fingers probing and preparing. After a few seconds of this, when Yamamoto pleads for him, Hayato withdraws and pushes the tip of his cock inside him. Yamamoto winces and he stops, but he tells Hayato to continue.

He didn't need permission, but he waited anyways and when Yamamoto told him to move, he did, easing in slow.

"Shit... tight," he hissed.

Yamamoto whimpered and fisted the bed sheets. When Hayato finally hilted, Yamamoto let out a long and sultry moan, almost with relief and Hayato began to move.

His hand grips one of Yamamoto's hips and he slides the other hand up his muscular back, resting in the middle of his spine and pressing in his blunt fingernails into his skin.

"Fuck... " Inside Yamamoto feels fucking amazing and he's not sure if it's because of the alcohol that's got him feeling so loose but he's really enjoying this man. The heat that surrounds his latex clad cock is intoxicating and the sounds coming out of the reporter's mouth are even more so.

Hayato loses himself in the moment and takes up his usual rough thrusting only to be jarred out of the haze when he hears a painful cry coming from Yamamoto. He stills and remembers what he's doing and who doing he's doing it with and _almost _has the heart to apologize when breathlessly Yamamoto tells him,

"Don't stop, m-more."

And so Hayato continues, snaking an arm around his waist to grip Yamamoto's cock in his hand. He thrusts in sync with his strokes, licking and biting down Yamamoto's spine.

"_Shit_... you feel good," Hayato groans, gripping Yamamoto's hip and digging his nails in for emphasis.

He doesn't realize it, but he's moaning too, enjoying this way more than he usually does and he can't explain why. Yamamoto is telling him to fuck him harder and Hayato is a little surprised but he complies, angling his hips and thrusting in harder.

"Ah, Gokudera!"

When he hears Yamamoto shout out his name, he thrusts in even deeper until he feels Yamamoto's cock jerk and shudder and he clenches down tightly around Hayato.

Hayaro reaches his climax too, as shudders wrack his entire body. He thrusts into Yamamoto a few more times, slowly for good measure before he collapses on top the broad back of the man underneath him, spent in every way.

Yamamoto shifts uncomfortably and Hayato eases up and out of him and when he does, Yamamoto winces a little and sprawls out on the bed, shoving his arms underneath the pillow. He let out a satiated sigh and Hayato could almost hear the grin on his face, even though he couldn't see it. He doesn't pay any heed to the fact that he's already able to read nuances in the man he's barely known for twenty four hours and has only met on two occasions. Hayato falls to the bed beside him and he thinks he'll just lie here for a minute to catch his breath and to stop the room from spinning. He's dizzy but it's not from the alcohol, it's from the shock of probably the most sensational orgasm he's ever experienced.

Yamamoto is still and his breathing has steadied, though Hayato can hear the soft thud of an erratic heart beat, pounding much like his own. He can tell he's asleep and he's not going to wake him. He's just going to compose himself and smoke a cigarette and then he's going to get the fuck out of here before Yamamoto wants to cuddle or do some lame shit like that. Instead, he unknowingly basks in the comforting warmth radiating off this enigmatic man and drifts off into a euphoric coma.


	6. Book I : My Saint : Chapter VI

_**Chapter VI **_

* * *

He felt a hot and heavy prescence at his naked back and a warmth that enveloped him. It felt relaxing and comfortable, like a thick quilted blanket cocoon wrapped around you on a cold winter's day while you sat in front of the glow of a log fireplace.

It felt safe and inviting, a feeling that Hayato has never really before. He relished the feeling for a minute until he became aware of hot breath on his neck and ear, jarring him out of his reverie.

His eyes flew open and he blinked several times to rid the fog from his vision. Surprisingly, he didn't have a hangover and thinking about that led to remembering last night.

The heaviness he felt was a chin on his shoulder and an arm around his waist, pressed into a man he barely even knew. And for a split second, Hayato was conflicted. This feeling was nice, it felt _good_ but it also scared him. He didn't know what it meant, the racing of his heart and the flutter in his stomach. It scared him that the man wrapped around him was so compelling, that he was profoundly captivated by this seemingly simple yet enigmatic stranger.

Yamamoto stirred and Hayato took that as a chance to subtly wriggle free from his arms only to feel a cold and lonely shock to his skin when he left them.

_What the fuck is wrong with me?_

Taking a backwards glance over his shoulder, Hayato could see that Yamamoto's glasses had fallen off his face sometime during the night and the way he slept so peacefully made him look like an innocent child.

It scared Hayato that instead of rushing to get out of the motel room and shower away the disgust he usually felt after a one night stand, he was lingering here, watching him sleep and feeling _almost _guilty that he was going to leave before he woke.

Padding silently across the carpet, he picked up the used condom and disposed of it in a trashcan by the front door and collected his clothing. He hurried into his jeans and shirt but he couldn't find one of his shoes.

Cursing under his breath, Hayato looked all over the room but still couldn't find his shoe. His eyes fell to the bed where he watched the steady rise and fall of the broad, tanned back that contrasted the white polyester sheets. The only place he hadn't looked was under the bed. He didn't have a clue how it would have ended up there but he couldn't find it, and stranger things have happened.

_Yeah, like you breaking all of your rules of engagement in one fucking night, idiot._

But, still looking at the reporter, Yamamoto, he couldn't help but feel an unfamiliar tug at his lips; pulling them into somewhat of a endearing smile.

_Well... I guess it can't be helped._

Still, Hayato was smart and wasn't about commitment. Or messing up his hard earned career. Or good at anything when it came to matters of the heart. Heart? He wouldn't go that far. He just needed to find his damn shoe and get back to work on catching a serial killer that enjoyed mocking him.

He crept over to the bed and knelt down, peering into the dust mite filled darkness when he saw his shoe within arms reach. He stretched for it but could just graze the leather with his fingertips so he lay flat on the carpet to reach underneath. Just as he was withdrawing his arm from under the bed, gripping his nomad shoe, he head a shift and a rustle above him. He glanced up only to be met with strikingly wide eyes, the irises that looked like clear caramel coloured glass now that Hayato could see them without the lenses of his glasses obscuring their beauty.

_Their... what?_

"Gokudera?" he croaked, his voice a little hoarse from the strenuous workout of his vocal chords from last night.

Hayato felt the tips of his ears get hot and his cheeks burn a little. He couldn't tear his gaze away. "I uh..." He cleared his throat. "My shoe," he muttered, thrusting the shoe between them for emphasis. Finally he was able to rip his eyes from the earnest orbs that seemed to smile at him without the slightest movement. "I have to work," he said... _almost_ regrettably.

Yamamoto reached out, pushed the shoe away and brushed the fringe of hair that had fallen over Hayato's eyes. He smiled, big and wide. "That's too bad, but... I understand."

Heat flared following his fingertips and Hayato was trying really hard to suppress the urge to crawl over this man's body and take him one more time for good measure. The sex the night before had been mind-numbing and Hayato didn't know what it was about this man, but he'd do it again. However, if he did that he'd have no escape, no excuse and he was scared he'd want to lean into that sculpted chest and just stay there for an eternity.

_What... the fuck. _

Shaking his head violently, he sprung up from his kneeling position and slipped on his shoe, casually brushing the hair out of his eyes as if to erase over that _almost _romantic gesture of Yamamoto's.

He felt Yamamoto's eyes follow him to the door, but he didn't say anything. It kind of infuriated Hayato, he had just taken this guy's virginity and he's just going to casually let him walk out if here like it meant nothing to him. This guy was unbelievably dense and there was something probably wrong with him, that he just let a stranger fuck him senseless and didn't have a word to say about that. Not even sober comments like _'__What the fuck was I_ _thinking?_' or even _'__You took_ _advantage of me!_'. Hayato has heard many of them, although he'll proudly admit - to himself really - that none were ever about his sexual performance and they _always _wanted more afterwards. But now it was him wanting more, and it was this idiot here who just let some stranger fuck him and was completely okay with the fact that he was walking away without even the promise to call him again. Without even an apology.

_"I__t's not like that, I like Gokudera."_

"Idiot," Hayato muttered under his breath. Well, so be it. It wasn't like he was ever going to let this happen again, because that was another rule of his. You never fuck the same person more than once. Because then you risked feelings getting involved and Hayato wasn't capable of feeling anything so that wasn't something he'd want to deal with. It was already going to be difficult enough if they had to work on the case together.

_So if you're not going to do it again, why do you care how he feels now? _

Hayato growled in regards to his inner monologue and left the hotel room in a hurry, lighting a cigarette and flagging down a cab once he walked out to the main street.

* * *

**A/N: **

Still on hiatus, but I had this chapter lying around so I'd figure I'd finish it and publish it.


	7. Book I : My Saint : Chapter VII

**Chapter VII**

* * *

Back at his house, Hayato is in the dark wandering around aimlessly trying to make sense of the fuckery going round in his head. He hasn't been home for more than ten minutes though when he hears the slight shuffle of feet coming from his bedroom. He whirls around into the kitchen, his back to the wall that separates the living room from the dining room and draws his vintage stainless steel .44 caliber AutoMag with a vented barrel and custom ebony wood grips out of its holster and points it down at the parquet floor. He closes his eyes and listens for the shuffling to begin again, except he hears the loud, hollow clacking of heels against the wood.

_A woman? _

Hayato calculates the distance between the kitchen and his bedroom and counts down from five, dashing put and pointing his gun at the intruder.

"Freeze, you bitch!" He paused.

"Hayato."

"_Bianchi?_ "

The woman, clad in a shimmering, red dress sashays toward him, her high black stilettos clacking underneath and her dress moved fluidly with the curves it hugged on her body. Her rose coloured hair hung in loose curls over her ivory shoulders and her green eyes sparkled like a cat's. Her glossy lips curled into a smile and she reached out an elegant arm and gripped the barrel of Hayato's gun.

"Is that really nice etiquette, to point a gun at your sister, Hayato?"

Hayato growled and lowered his gun, jamming it back into the holster. "Jesus fuck, what are you doing here?"

Bianchi leaned in close, so close Hayato could smell the subtle scent of her perfume. It was like a saccharine scent, sugary and almost seductive, had this not been his sister and had he not been gay. "Does a woman need an excuse to see her brother?" she whispered in his ear, her lips brushing off his earlobe leaving sticky gloss in its wake.

Hayato pushed her back gently and moved further into the kitchen. "If it's you, then yes. You don't do anything innocuous without a hidden agenda, _sister._"

She followed Hayato into the kitchen and took a seat on a bar stool, draping a long leg over her thigh. The slit in her red dress revealed her creamy pale skin, much the same as her brother's. She rested her head in her hand perched up by her elbow on the island in the middle of the kitchen. "Well, brother, now that you mention it... I do need a favour."

Hayato leaned back against the counter, putting distance in between them and rolled his eyes. "Of course you do. You know I have no jurisdiction in Italy, sis. And if you do anything stupid here, I'll have to slap some cuffs on you."

Bianchi's laugh sounded like clinking crystal. She shuddered visably, though minutely. "Oh, Hayato. Don't tease me like that," she said, her voice smooth and sultry.

Hayato shuddered too, though his was due to a whole different emotion. Perhaps disgust would be fitting. "Well, are you going to tell me?"

Bianchi sighed. "You really are no fun, brother."

"Yes, because flirting with my sister is such a hobby of mine. Get to the fucking point, Bianchi. I'm working a case, I don't have time for your bullshit." Hayato lit a cigarette.

"Mind if I have one?" she asked, raising a perfectly manicured brow.

Hayato leaned over and handed her a cigarette and his lighter. She held the cigarette between two long and slender fingers, nails polished in a sparkling ruby.

"Hayato... a lady never lights her own cigarette in a man's presence."

"Che," Hayato remarked frustratingly and lit the tip of her cigarette, her eyes boring into his as he did so. She blew a long plume of smoke in his face before he resumed his position at the counter.

"Romeo is dead," she said flatly, taking another pull of her cigarette.

"I know," Hayato said, turning to rummage through his cupboards for two glasses. "Drink?" he asked, turning to face Bianchi.

She smirked, the tendrils of smoke wrapping around her head lazily. "Mm, yes. Something strong... and stiff," she said.

Hayato rolled his eyes again and reached under the sink for his aged whiskey. He didn't bother with the ice and poured the glasses full. He set hers beside her elbow on the wooden block top to the island and set down an ashtray beside it. She lifted the glass with her other hand and Hayato could see the large diamond on her ring finger.

"That his?" he asked.

Bianchi took a sip and pursed her lips. "Yes, this is what my Romeo gave me when he purposed. But now..."

"Yeah, he's dead. Got it. What does this make? Fourth, fifth husband now?"

"Fourth," Bianchi stated, taking another drag of the cigarette.

"Jesus... I don't know how you haven't managed to get caught -"

"Hayato, I didn't kill Romeo. I loved him," she said softly, staring into the bottom of her glass.

Hayato snorted and took a long gulp of his own whiskey, the alcohol burning its way down his throat and lightning his chest on fire. It was _way _too early to be drinking. "Right, like you didn't kill the other three? It may not be obvious to the Italian justice system, but you didn't get the name Poison Scorpion for nothing."

Bianchi glared at Hayato with eyes alight with a fire that could often mirror her brother's eyes when passionate about something. "Maybe so, but I didn't kill _him_. Someone is framing me."

Hayato took a long look at his sister before deciding she was telling the truth. Being a cop, he had a knack for these things and no one knew his sister better than he did. He sighed. "So what happened?"

Bianchi snubbed her cigarette out and set her glass on the island top. "Three weeks ago, I was the club and Romeo was supposed to pick me up when I was finished the gig. Instead he didn't pick me up, one of his drivers did. I wasn't bothered by it, went to our home but it was empty. Romeo wasn't due for his business trip for another two days. I'm not a woman that needs to go looking around for her husband, Hayato. The men _always _come to me and in our world, the wives mind their business."

Bianchi was a lounge singer at one of their father's many elite night clubs in Palermo. She was gorgeous and rare; with skin like porcelain, eyes like emeralds and hair the colour of powdered blush. She was untouchable, being the daughter of an infamous mafia Don and the niece of a sleezy but well respected black market daughter and the sister of the Hurricane Bomb Hayato. However, it didn't make her unobtainable because men fawned over her despite the dangers of even her own reputation. She was well known for being with rich and powerful men; the last one, Romeo di Marco of the Bovino Famiglia being no exception.

"But when I hadn't heard from him in two days, I asked one of the Bovino's henchmen if he had any knowledge. Of course, he told me nothing and two days after that, Romeo washed up on Arnella Beach. Hayato, the coroner said he had been poisoned." Bianchi stared off into space, as if recalling the incident but with no emotion.

Hayato finished the last mouthful of whiskey and sighed. "Bianchi... if this is some kind of ploy -"

"Hayato, I didn't kill him!" she shouted, slamming her hand down on the countertop. "I _loved_ Romeo, he was it for me."

"Alright, alright. I believe you. Are you a suspect?"

"Of course," she said with a sigh.

"And you left the _country?_ Fuck, Bianchi as if that doesn't make you look more guilty."

"I had to! The Bovino Famiglia is at war with ours and there's been a hit issued... for me."

"What? Jesus, what the fuck have you gotten yourself in to? What Is that bastard doing about all this?"

Bianchi flipped her hair over her shoulder, revealing the plunging neckline of her high collared, sleeveless shimmering red dress that was awkwardly too formal for Hayato's humble bachelor kitchen. "He's absolutely livid, of course. He and Shamal arranged for me to fly here, to be under your protection."

Hayato scoffed. "A little fucking warning would have been nice."

"Well, it's not like we could have contacted you. We can't leave a paper trail or an electronic one at that. You know how advanced the Bovino's technology is. They're bound to find me sooner or later. Romeo was the son of the Bovino's consigliere. Hayato, I'm actually scared. I don't know what's going on but I'm right in the middle of it all."

"Bianchi," Hayato sighed. "I can't... I can't help you. I left the mafia ties in Italy. I'm not that kind of man anymore."

Bianchi stood and made her way over to him. She smirked. "You're a man of the law, aren't you, Hayato? Can't you protect me, officer?" she asked, trailing her fingertips down his chest.

Hayato pushed her hand away. "Not from these guys. You were probably better off in Italy."

Bianchi pouted. "What a cruel little brother I have." She brushed the fringe of hair out of Hayato's eyes and traced down his face and cheekbone. "Such a gorgeous little brother. I'm glad you didn't stay in Italy. Though as much as I've missed you, I didn't want you to mess up that pretty face of yours, dull those beautiful eyes. But I need your help, please, Hayato. There isn't anyone I can trust except you."

Hayato sighed. His sister was fifty shades of fucked up but it didn't change the fact that she was his family and she was reaching out to him. "If I let you stay here, you _have _to stay out of sight. You can't stick your nose into my affairs, either. I drink a lot, smoke a lot and I don't always come home. So don't... don't act like a crazy, overbearing sister. Alright?"

She smiled victoriously, twirling a strand of strawberry hair in her fingers. "I'll behave."

"And put some clothes on," he growled.

Bianchi narrowed her eyes. "Aw, what's wrong Hayato? Is my dress... too revealing for you?" she asked, taking his hand and sliding it up her naked thigh.

Hayato ripped his hand away. "Ugh, stop doing that, you bastard! For someone who's lost a husband they claim to have loved, you don't seem to fucking shaken up about it."

Bianchi turned from him then, switching her hips alluringly as she walked away. She looked over her shoulder and winked before she left the kitchen.

Hayato let out a long and frustrated sigh. It wasn't even nine o' clock in the morning and he already was fed up with the way the day was going. Sharing the house with his overly licentious sister was going to be troublesome, hiding his double life from her was going to be troublesome and if anyone came to Japan in search for her, it was going to be troublesome. Hayato felt the need to get lost in the bottle and the fact that he kept going back to it as a solution was posing to be a problem. He was beginning to feel like an alcoholic. Hell, maybe he was already one.

His mind drifted off and got lost in what was becoming another addiction. A certain addiction that involved bright hazel eyes behind glasses, smooth olive skin... the bevels and curbs of the ribbed muscles in his abdomen, his back... the ripped biceps that flexed so seductively clutching the bed sheets and that brush... that brush of his soft fingertips against his forehead.

_"That's too bad, but... I understand." _

Hayato felt heat coiling in the pit of his stomach and a tingle shoot down his spine as he recollected on last night's events. He felt like he wanted to see him again, he _needed_ to see him again. Hayato's never thought about another man the way he's been thinking about Yamamoto. He's never thought about _any_ man except for when he needs what he needs and then, he doesn't even really see their face. He definitely never remembers their name. He's never woken up beside one either, and that wasn't because he had been drunk. Part of him knew as he fell asleep on that motel mattress that he wanted to wake up next to him. Maybe it was because the sex had been good or maybe... fuck. He didn't know, he didn't know anything and his brain was starting to hurt trying to work it out.

Luckily, his cell phone rang.

"Gokudera," he answered.

_"Yo Octopus Head! You're extremely late, what have you been doing?" _

"Shit, I know. I ran... into some family problems. Give me a half an hour and I'll be in."

_"Actually, that's what I was calling about. Sawada says you should rest up another day._"

"What? Fuck no, I'm tired of resting. I need to fucking work. I'm coming in, I'll talk to him." Hayato walked from the kitchen to the living room and heard the water running in his bathroom. He walked to his bedroom.

_"Well, you better make it in quick, there's an agent coming in from Tokyo's Public Security Bureau to collaborate on the case."_

"Fuck, just try to stall. I'll be in as soon as I can." Hayato hung up the phone and this was the one time he wished his house had two bathrooms.

Standing at the door of his bedroom, he saw his sister's Versace luggage, one suitcase to be exact, on his bed. Being a cop, it was only natural he was curious and only natural he would want to search its contents.

He shoved his cell into his back pocket and walked up to his bed, opening the zipper to the suitcase. He pulled things out tentatively; trying to avoid the various flimsy, almost non existent panties she had folded neatly in the corner. He removed those gingerly as if they were disease ridden. And who knew, they possibly could be, Hayato also knew her for her promiscuity.

_Like I'm one to talk_, he scoffed inwardly.

Bianchi was clean, nothing but a few cocktail dresses, casual wear and her vast collection of thongs. Though she was a cunning woman, if she had anything to hide, she wouldn't be stupid enough to hide it in plain view.

"What a nice little brother, unpacking for his sister."

Hayato turned towards the door. "Tch, didn't I tell you to put some fucking clothes on?"

Bianchi stood in the doorway in a dark red towel, her hair hanging in ringlets over her shoulders. "Well I have a problem, Hayato. I didn't pack anything to wear comfortably." She moved into the bedroom and again, invaded Hayato's personal bubble of space. She pushed him down on the bed. "Is it alright if I borrow something if yours?" she asked, sliding a hand up his thigh.

Hayato growled and swatted her hand away. "The next time you touch me, I'll put a bullet in you," he warned with a scowl.

Bianchi moved back and allowed Hayato to get up off the bed. She laughed. "Oh Hayato, when you talk like that I find it hard to remind myself that you're my brother and not some rare and gorgeous creature that I need to sink my teeth into."

Hayato snorted. "When you talk that way, I find it hard to resist the urge to throw you in the looney bin for being all kinds of fucked up." He grabbed a pair of jeans and a real dress shirt from his closet and boxers and socks from his dresser.

"Hmph, I can't help it. Looking at you is like looking at my reflection but with such sharp features and seductive body. Hayato do you work out?"

"Honestly, Bianchi. One bullet." Hayato remarked, patting the holster on his hip. She smiled but chose to keep her mouth shut which was an unbelievable relief to Hayato. "I've got to go to work. There are clothes in the closet, pajamas in the drawers. Help yourself but seriously, get fucking dressed. I can't have you walking around my house in a towel for fuck sakes."

She opened her mouth to make another slutty remark when Hayato shot her a hot glare. "Don't even say it," he warned. She closed her mouth and smirked instead and Hayato could only imagine the colourful things that would have coming floating off those gloss slicked lips had he allowed her the freedom. He shuddered.


	8. Book I : My Saint : Chapter VIII

_**Chapter VIII**_

* * *

"So tell me,what'd you and Hibari find out yesterday?" Hayato asked, taking a much needed swig of his scalding hot black coffee. He had just gotten to the station after stopping off at the coffee shop he and Yamamoto sat at two days ago. He paid no attention to the fact that he lingered there for a second, trying to recall the soapy fresh fragrance of the reporter when he had leaned in close. But it was only for a second because remembering his scent lead to remembering Bianchi's perfume and the uncomfortable and disgusting closeness she had displayed which resulted in him feeling sick to his stomach.

Ryohei had been jotting down some notes on a coroner's report when he looked up and smirked. "I think we may have an extreme lead on the other three victim's identies."

Hayato scratched his head and set the coffee cup on Ryohei's desk. He felt excited, finally for the first time since entering the first crime scene, that there might be a chance in solving this case. There was nothing more frustrating for an officer to have one of his cases go cold, but to Hayato who had some sort of obsessive compulsive disorder, it irked him to the point where he'd lose sleep because he couldn't focus on anything else. His pride was his mind, being able to quickly solve any problem that arised.

"Well? Are you going to fucking tell me, or are you just going to gloat like an asshole?" he asked Ryohei.

Ryohei laughed, a loud barking laugh. "Well duh. I'm not gonna leave my partner outta the loop."

The pen was quiet, most of the officers were beat cops so they were out patrolling. Hayato didn't miss the days of being a beat cop, they were often uneventful. Sure there were times he and Ryohei caught an adrenaline rush chasing down robbers and thugs but nothing gave Hayato more pleasure in his career than solving mysteries. That made him a superb homicide detective and with Namimori Middle District being the most violent and crime riddled out of the North and South districts, he needed to be.

"We started in Sakura Town at Ikeda Nosaru's apartment. Hibari and his team went through his belongings. We found two unregistered guns with the serial numbers filed down and few ounces of coke - I'm only talkin' maybe three of four to the extreme."

Gokudera's jaw dropped. "That's close to twelve million yen... what's he doing with that much profitable cash in that shitty apartment?"

Ryohei shrugged. "Maybe he was a drug pusher."

Hayato shook his head. Something didn't seem right. "No... none of his priors are drug related."

"Maybe he was new at it. You said that his tattoo meant he wasn't in the gang for extremely long. Maybe they were getting around to trusting him enough to sell shit."

Hayato was silent. He mulled over the details, gave himself a second to think. Using the first most familiar conversion, twelve million Yen was equal to about eighty thousand Euros. And if he converted Euros to American dollars, it was roughly one hundred and twenty thousand. It was a lot of merchandise to be sitting in plain view in this low life's apartment. Perhaps it had been planted by the killer.

"Fingerprints?" asked Hayato.

Ryohei sighed. "Only his in the apartment and on the baggies of coke. They were hidden in a pillow case."

"So we're sure this is the same guy, right?"

Ryohei nodded. "Kusakabe was able to confirm size and weight based off his profile. When we ran the prints, his mug came up in AFIS as a match."

Hayato rubbed his eyes tiredly. "What about the landlord, did you talk to the owner of the ramen shop?"

"Yeah, landlord said he kept to himself, paid rent in full, in cash and on time every month. Never had any problems with him."

"What was the rent and how long did he live there for?"

"Forty thousand yen, two years. Never had a problem. I see that extreme look on your face. What are you thinking?"

Hayato reached for his coffee and gulped it down. He really wanted a cigarette. "I'm thinking this guy was a no body. His priors were for armed robbery... he's a thief, not a pusher."

Ryohei raised a white brow. The scar across his brow and temple stretched with it. "So you're thinking maybe he stole the coke? And maybe someone killed him for it?"

"I don't know. It's not likely. This isn't a regular yakuza killing. This isn't about penance and impudence. This guy was a victim of our serial killer. He was clean, wasn't he?"

Ryohei cleared his throat. "Yeah, actually he was. Tox screen came back negative except for extremely small traces of etorphine. Here's the report," Ryohei said, pulling a file out of another file and handing it to Hayato. "The full autopsy report is in there too."

Hayato opened the folder and scanned the documents. He knew what etorphine was, it was a powerful sedative used to incapacitate large animals such as elephants and was only used by veterinarians. Another clue about the killer. He wasn't looking too calculated after all.

The autopsy showed that Kusakabe had found bruising around an injection site at the base of the neck on the victim. This was the first time the killer had used a sedative and left behind such evidence, it almost appeared to be uncharacteristic and sloppy.

"Why didn't you tell me this sooner, lawn head?"

Ryohei eyed him. "Sawada told me not to bother you. But... looking over that evidence, I'm extremely sure this kill is the work of a copy cat. Wouldn't you agree?"

Hayato tossed the file back on Ryohei's desk. "No, it isn't. The first three were easy marks, easy kills. The perp had no trouble subduing his victims and killing them. This guy, Ikeda Nosaru, put up a fight. He wasn't that easy to kill. Kusakabe also mentions the hesitation marks on the neck below the decapitation site. That means for some reason he second guessed killing him. Then the fact that he missed the tattoo, he was panicked and rushed, perhaps pressed for time or regretting his decision. Regardless, this job seems a little more personal than the first three. We have to find out more about this guy's life. He's the key to catching this fucker."

"Ah... that's a good point, to the extreme. But here's my theory. Since they've all been murdered in the same fashion and taking in to consideration the drugs found in his apartment, I'm thinkin' that this is a rival gang thing."

Hayato thought about it. Possible, but unlikely. "How did you come to this conclusion?"

Ryohei gestured to the stack of files on his desk. "Me and Hibari went over the other cases. The bodies were all found in areas around Sakura Town. So, the killer probably operates from there. Also, since all the other victims had large amounts of skin removed to the extreme and we know now that it's probably to hide tattoos and other markings, then these guys are all probably affiliated with the yakuza."

Hayato worked the theory out in his brain. Surprisingly, it made sense. Kusakabe had placed age from early to late twenties for all male victims. They knew Ikeda Nosaru was a younger member of the _Hakai Dirā. _They had all been killed in the same manner, except Ikeda's murder seemed more personal, suggesting that the killer either knew him or sympathized with him. If Hayato ran with the stolen drugs theory, it was plausible that Ikeda was murdered for stealing drugs either from a rival gang or his own.

Then there was the informant's information. True he was a heroin in addict so Hayato was taking a big leap in buying into his possible bullshit, but he knew the drug trade in Sakura Town. People talked to him because he was fucked up and either figured he'd forget or they trusted him. There was a man that didn't have a name that patrolled the streets down there with a katana slung over his shoulder; though Kusakabe hadn't been able to determine what the weapon was and neither could the forensic team, both agreed that the the patterns left behind on the stumps were all left by the same weapon.

"If this is true, we'll need to see the _Hakai _boss," Hayato remarked finally.

Ryohei laughed. "Dude, that's impossible. He'll never talk to us. We won't even be able to get near him."

"Well we'll have to find a way. This may be the work of a yakuza hitman."

* * *

Though he had been told to stay home, Hayato had convinced Tsuna to let him stay and work on the leads with Ryohei. Around four thirty pm, Tsuna requested that they meet up with him at a upscale coffee shop, where he'd introduce them to the Public Security Bureau agent that would be working on the case with them.

Hayato was reluctant, he didn't like to share but he had already given Tsuna more than enough trouble in the last few days so he was just going to shut his mouth and comply. Upon arriving at the coffee shop just outside Namimori Middle, Ryohei had to leave on personal matter which left Hayato to fend for himself. In his own way, he was glad that he didn't have to have the embarrassment of his overly excited partner jabbering about boxing to the unsuspecting agent.

When he got there, Hayato was relieved that the coffee shop had a smoking section. He was a little weary at first because he wasn't quite sure why they were meeting at a swank coffee shop to discuss details about the case when the agent could have just come to the precinct.  
He was nervous about meeting the agent because he knew right away how he'd react. Hayato doesn't like to share his things, his cases are personal and he is always the mastermind. Having someone from the bureau butt in on his territory and take matters into their own hands pissed him right off. He didn't like authority figures, especially ones that abused their power and Hayato found most bureau agents were dicks with a God complex that he really wanted to punch. What made him nervous was that he couldn't lose his cool in front of Tsuna, which he had no guarantee that he wouldn't.

Hayato lit a cigarette and let out a shaky breath. He scanned the coffee shop patrons for his boss but couldn't see him in the sea of faces. He did however see a rather alluring woman with pale skin and black hair; long bangs covering her face and a tuft of hair that spiked at the crown. He followed a long but thin trail of hair that curved around her shoulder and noticed she was completely flat chested.

Pulling on his cigarette and squinting, he realized that the rather alluring female was actually a rather alluring male; tall and slender with an elegant structured jawline and his lips were curved into a subtle and sly grin. When the man tilted his head to the side, Hayato could see that his hair wasn't black. It was actually blue, reflecting the light in several hues like a monochromatic wave.

He was talking to someone and Hayato couldn't help but stare at the man's captivating beauty. This man had initially gotten his attention, in a way that Yamamoto had and he found himself analyzing his every move for a good five minutes. During the course of that five minutes, Hayato could tell that the man was playful and coy but his aura screamed arrogance and narcissism. The way his lips moved, never diminishing the sly curl of his mouth told Hayato that he was a flirt, seductive by nature. The grin also told Hayato that this man wasn't to be trusted; it read deceit and dishonesty.

The way the man casually laid his chin the the palm of his hand, leaning in close and listening intently showed Hayato that he found his partner to be rather amusing, interesting to say the least. Occasionally the hand would disappear and return, and Hayato could only guess that he was reaching out to grasp the arm or hand of whoever he sat across from, a tactic to show whoever he was with that he was interested in them, not just the conversation.

However, despite the man's flirtatious and playful nature, Hayato found the man to be exuding malevolence. He was definitely a creature to be wary of and the pseudo smile the man had plastered to his face made Hayato's skin crawl.

Tearing his gaze from the perplexing male, he turned to the counter and ordered his coffee. He was about to pay for it when someone spoke over his shoulder, soft and frolicsome. It made his skin crawl because behind the façade of his tone was maleficence.

"Gokudera Hayato, I presume?"

Hayato turned and was face to face with the man with the monochromatic hair. His proximity was too close for comfort and the way his strikingly sharp sapphire eyes bore into his with that all-knowing smirk made Hayato feel like he was two feet tall and his skin feel like it was crawling with a million hissing cockroaches.

Hayato has never been intimidated in his life. Not by his father or sadistic step mother, not by his perverted sister or the mafia thugs of Palermo but this man... this man made Hayato's gut twist in knots and made the hair on the nape of his neck stand up. Still, a man has to have his pride and luckily for him, the barista in the swanky coffee shop interrupts the awkward moment to announce his coffee is ready.

"Kufufu," the man laughs. "I'll take care of that, Gokudera Hayato. Perhaps you should say hello to your boss. You're late."

Hayato is speechless as he takes the coffee but slams the change down on the counter for emphasis. He will not have this swine paying for anything he's drinking. Something tells him that even a simple gesture like buying someone's coffee, this man will hold you to a favor in return later on.

"Kufufu," he laughs again, this time with a little disdain. Nevertheless, the eerie grin spreads wider on his face as he gestures to the table where he and Tsuna had been sitting.

Sudden realization hit when Hayato remembered just moments before he had been sizing up this man and the way he had been flirting with the other person who sat at the table. _His boss._ Not just his boss, his _friend._ Hayato became angry, seething in fact, when he recalled the passes he ever so bluntly made towards Tsuna. The tenth was too kind of a man to reject anything, even if it made him uncomfortable. He was weak hearted and this man was pushy, overbearing and he made _Hayato _uncomfortable. He imagined his humble boss, flustered and fidgeting at the blue haired man's advances and he reached for the gun holstered on his hip. How _dare _he take advantage of the tenth's good nature and make him feel awkward with his overpowering aura.

Hayato was not jealous in any way, don't misunderstand. He is not in love with Tsuna nor does he have any romantic feelings towards him. He never has. The bond he shared was akin to a god and it's followers. Tsuna was his saint and savior and he admired him devotedly. However, because of this, Hayato is immensely overprotective of his kind hearted, naïve friend not to mention he is naturally posessive. He is disgusted to have witnessed such an open display of disrespect for another one's personal space, especially _his friend's_. He knows all too well what it looked like to seduce a man, especially a weaker and inferior target. It shamed him to think of it now, but he himself was guilty of this technique.

He remained tight lipped, his anger permeating his bones and making them ache, but he refused to make a scene and embarrass the tenth more than he possibly was and more than _he_ already had. Hayato scowled at the man, who's grin remained stretched out on the ever so mocking face, and made his way to the table where his boss sat.

"Ah, Gokudera-kun, I'm glad you could have made it." Tsuna's brown eyes were wide and round, gleaming with sincerity. Hayato made note of the slight dusting of rose across his cheeks and his rage continued to boil.

"S-sorry I'm late, Tenth. Lawn -"

"Sasagawa-san."

"- Head had some personal business to take care of. I thought we were meeting a PSB agent?" Hayato hid his bitterness in the equal bitter blackness of his coffee.

Tsuna smiled warily. "Haha, yes. You've just met him. Gokudera-kun, this is the Tokyo branch's PSB agent, Rokudo Mukuro."

Mukuro took a seat with a very fancy beverage with whipped cream and chocolate drizzle piled high on top of what looked like either hot chocolate or chocolate flavored espresso.

Hayato stifled an eye roll at how cliché the frilly drink was compared to a gay man. Hayato isn't homophobic nor would he ever slander someone with derogatoryremarks regarding their sexuality, but he figures being gay himself gives him liberation to poke fun at the stereotypes. And _clearly _this man was gay, he was all but eye fucking Tsuna from across the table and Hayato resisted the urge to fire a bullet through his balls underneath their marbletop table.

"It's certainly a pleasure to finally meet the infamous Gokudera Hayato of the Namimori Middle Police Department. I've heard astounding things about your work, detective," Mukuro purred. He canted his head to the left inquiringly and Hayato caught a red glint in his right eye. A trickery of lighting perhaps but Hayato wasn't convinced. His right eye definitely shimmered from blue to red.

"Yeah, pleasure's all mine," he grunted.

"Oya, what a somber human you have working for you, Sawada Tsunayoshi."

Tsuna laughed uncomfortably. "He's alright, Mukuro."

_First name basis,_ Hayato thought bitterly. _Just how familiar are these two?_

"Kufufu, I'm sure that he is. Anyhow, my presence in the dreadful district is due to the interest the bureau has taken in this Headless Samurai case."

"Headless... Samurai case?"

Mukuro turned his head towards Tsuna and grinned. "Ah yes, that's the name your fine journalists have coined the killer. You haven't been very apt about keeping details out of public knowledge, Sawada Tsunayoshi."

Hayato grit his teeth. "That damned woman. And you Mukuro-"

"It's fine, Gokudera-kun," Tsuna cut in. "Mukuro, we held a press conference last night and we were very discrete. If the public is giving a name to the suspect, it's through their own observations by word of mouth and not from my officers."

Mukuro hummed. "Regardless, we now have jurisdiction to oversee this case. Four murders with the same _modus operandi _is cause for our intervention. The perpetrator has now become a serial killer."

Hayato drowned another snarky remark in the depths of his coffee cup while Tsuna nodded.

"I understand. Any help the PSB can offer us on apprehending the suspect will be greatly appreciated."

"Oya? What have your officers been doing as of late? Perhaps they're too busy frequenting coffee shops like this one-"

Hayato scoffed.

Mukuro's playful eyes narrowed and he glared at Hayato. "Or perhaps they're too busy frequenting dim lighted bars where cheap alcohol and poor decisions are made," he said smugly.

Hayato knew this comment was directed at him. Mukuro couldn't have gotten any more personal with the descriptions of the dives he visits nightly. The fact that he knew such personal things about Hayato's life had him seeing red.

He was grounded though when Tsuna interjected politely but sternly. "My men are all good men, Mukuro. You of all people should know that. What they do on their off time is their business but I can _assure _you that they devote every second of the time they do have to this case. It hasn't been easy, there haven't been many leads due to the lack of evidence -"

"Oyaoya, making excuses for your incompetent department, Sawada Tsunayoshi?" Mukuro's tone was playful yet laced with ignorance. It made Hayato grip the butt of his gun until his knuckles hurt.

"Don't you dare insult the Tenth and his ability to run our department," Hayato growled.

"Kufufu, I can see why you wanted this man here. He's quite the loyal dog," Mukuro remarked.

Hayato jolted out of his seat. "Alright, that's it, you pineapple fucker! I'm -"

"Gokudera-kun, sit down!"

Mukuro narrowed his eyes and this time his right eye was a definite scarlet. "Oya? What did you just say?"

"I called you a pineapple fucker, fucker. Your hair looks stupid, like a pineapple!" Hayato hissed, fist raised.

"Kufu... what an insolent brat," Mukuro remarked, easing back in his seat with nonchalance.

There was a desperate tug on Hayato's sleeve. "Gokudera-kun, please sit down. You're drawing the attention of the other customers."

Hayato looked down at his boss and saw the red hue in his cheeks. He instantly felt a pang of regret and shame. He clapped his hands together and bowed. "I... I'm terribly sorry, Tenth. I've managed to shame you again. I'm sorry, I'm -"

Tsuna gave him a weary smile. "Enough, please. Just sit down and let's discuss this as adults, okay?"

Hayato nodded and shot a warning glare in Mukuro's direction. He wore a triumphant grin, seemingly pleased to have gotten such a reaction. Hayato sat back down and lit a cigarette, inhaling the poisonous smoke desperately. How he wanted to kill this man...

Mukuro casually draped an arm across Tsuna's shoulders. "Kufufu, you really do have a remarkable subordinate here, Sawada Tsunayoshi. I'm almost jealous."

_Don't get any ideas, pineapple freak, _Hayato thought angrily, twitching his leg and mercilessly dragging on his cigarette. It was obvious that the pineapple snake was here for one reason only and that was to get into his boss's pants. Hayato was disgusted.

Tsuna let out a nervous laugh and proceeded to explain the current situation, stammering his way through while Mukuro continued making comments that were of bad taste.

He kept his mouth shut, his rage and impatience growing by the minute and with every inappropriate pass Mukuro made towards the tenth.

Every so often Mukuro would glance over at Hayato with a smug smirk and mischievous glint in his heterochromatic eyes. It made Hayato envision several ways to skewer those eyes with hot pokers or possibly a toothpick, anything to wipe that arrogance off his face.

The conversation had taken longer than it should have and at some point, Hayato had stopped listening, his mind wandering to a certain reporter he'd much rather be in the company of. Not that he'd ever admit it out loud, it wasn't that he wanted to actually _spend _time with that guy. He was stressed out between the case and his sister and now his boss and this pineapple bastard. When cigarettes didn't do the trick he relied on alcohol and now since he had already embarrassed the tenth enough with his actions, the next best thing would be to fuck someone He needed to relieve the tension and pent up frustration and the only way he knew how other than emptying his bullets into the source of his rage was to just fuck someone senseless. And since he wasn't able to go to the bars he liked because _someone _had been following him, the only choice that left him was Yamamoto.

Hayato was jarred out of his thoughts when Mukuro reached out a gloved hand and curled it around Tsuna's chin, shamelessly tilting it his favorable direction. The tenth seemed bashful and flustered and he currently had a hand rested affectionately on Mukuro's other arm.

If Hayato didn't know any better, he'd say they were lovers. Well, let's face it, he really didn't know any better, did he? No. Hayato didn't know anything about his boss's personal life and he never pried either. But a revelation like this... he would never have thought his boss was gay. He even dated Sasagawa's sister for a few years in college. And Hayato thought they had broken up because she moved to study abroad.

_Just how well acquainted are these two?_

Eveeytime Mukuro would casually touch his arm, Tsuna would return the touch by carefully squeezing his hand affectionately. Snapping out of his daze, Hayato narrowed his eyes and nearly reached across the table to pry that slithering snake's slimy hands off his boss when the caught the end of their conversation.

"- dont act shy its not like I dont know you're into that, kufufu .. Especially when you come to me for it."

Tsuna pulled away, eyes wide but a tell tale streak of vermilion cast across his boss's cheeks and he stuttered in surprise. "M-Mukuro!"

Hayato's blood ran cold. He gripped the butt of his gun and pictured putting a bullet straight through this sickly sly bastard's pineapple head, and he probably would have had he not thought about what the Tenth would say to that. _What exactly is their relationship?_

He was silently brooding the possibilities when his green orbs caught the mismatching pair of red and blue. His entire body shuddered as that fucking pineapple snake chuckled. He was being mocked alright and this fucker was so open about it, it really got under his skin. Began to eat away at his sanity, his fingers itching to pull the trigger on his AutoMag.

"Kufufufu! Tsunayoshi, you are simply too fun to play with. I am really enjoying myself just a little too much," Mukuro said amusingly.

_Maybe a little __**too **__much, pineapple bastard._

Hayato scoffed. "This isn't the place for you to be so casually friendly with the tenth, you sly fuck. He has a reputation to uphold and you're greasy hands have been all over him for the better part of an hour," Hayato hissed, finally loosing control of his tongue.

"Oya? Is the loyal dog jealous?" Mukuro remarked with that eerie chuckle.

"Gokudera-kun, please. It isn't what you think," the Tenth said, abashed.

Hayato had seen and heard enough. Quite frankly he was sick to his stomach, this man was untrustworthy and dangerous and he didn't want his boss anywhere near him. Unfortunately, he couldn't do anything about it, other than warn him.

"Tenth, this man is deceitful. Please be careful."

"Go-Gokudera-kun?" Tsuna looked up at him as he stood, inquisitively.

"I'm sorry, Tenth, but I must excuse myself. I really should be getting back to work."

"Oya? Or is that back to the bottle, Gokudera-_kun_?"

"Mukuro, that's enough!" Tsuna said, looking over at the smirking agent.

Hayato clenched his fists, visualizing the fourth... or was it fifth? way of killing this fucker but he refused to give in to this bastard's trickery and make a fool out of himself. Or a fool out of his boss. "Really, it's fine, Tenth. We have some leads we'd like to follow up on, so I'll be keeping busy. Please excuse me."

Tsuna frowned slightly and Hayato could see a passing sadness in his eyes. It panged Hayato with guilt and regret and he hated to have to leave his precious friend in the clutches of this devilish man but he couldn't afford to shame him anymore. And the tenth had made his own decision, no? It wasn't Hayato's place to tell him who he could be involved with. He considered it very disrespectful to give his boss relationship advice when he himself was all kinds of fucked up.

"Oya? Well, I'll expect to see full detailed reports on your desk in the morning, Gokudera Hayato. I'll be taking them to my hotel to review later on. I refuse to surround myself around bottom feeding law enforcement." Mukuro glanced up at Hayato, shit eating smirk and all and waited for Hayato's explosive reaction. Except at that moment, Hayato had been thinking of a warm arm of a certain reporter wrapped around him and it grounded him. He wasn't going to give this slimy, distasteful man the satisfaction of riling him up.

Instead, Hayato gave Tsuna his best smile and a reassuring squeeze to his shoulder. "I'll call you later on this evening, Tenth."

Tsuna smiled warmly in return and then shifted his gaze uncomfortably to Mukuro. "I'm sorry about all that, Gokudera-kun. Mukuro... has an acquired personality. I've known him for a few years through cases we've worked and... '

Hayato smiled one last time before leaving the table. "It's really okay, Tenth. You needn't explain yourself nor that pineapple snake to me. Just be careful."

And before Mukuro could come back with a _k__ufufufu _and a remark that would make Hayato undoubtedly empty his magazine into his slender frame, he quickly retreated to his car, lighting a cigarette and punching the dashboard for good measure. He'd bit his tongue for now but if Mukuro allowed for their relationship to interfere with _his_ case, there would be no way Hayato could let that slide. And if Mukuro did one thing to upset or hurt his friend in anyway, he had better believe that he'd be facing _l'ira della tempesta_.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

**Special thanks to my lovely babu, Haya-chan! She was my Mukuro muse for this chapter and she created the coffee shop scene. She was the mastermind behind this chapter! I love you ! xo**

**Also, thanks Lo-chan for the translation! She's my Italian beauty! xo**


	9. Book I : My Saint : Chapter IX

_**Chapter IX**_

* * *

The sun was beginning to set behind the Namimori skyline and Hayato just continued to drive aimlessly through the streets. He didn't want to go home. He had no patience for his sister's wanton mannerisms and Ryohei was still busy.

He went over the theories they had come up with earlier in the day and the one thing Hayato concluded was that he needed to talk to the _Hakai_ _Dīrā._Their boss was a dangerous man by the name of Tomakazu Tosaru, with a wrap sheet long enough to cover Namimori Middle District three times at least. And the _only_ reason he hadn't been locked up, Hayato was sure, was because of meddlesome dipshits like Rokudo Mukuro and the lawyers and judges that were bought with money and drugs and the fine courtesans of Sakura Town.

Sakura Town had its own laws that were beyond the actual law that Tsuna tried so hard to uphold within this corrupt city. The people of Sakura Town made up their own rules and regulations and abided by them because if they didn't, the two most influential yakuza gangs would interfere. The people that committed crimes in Sakura Town were _untouchable _by the definite laws of Namimori Middle District and were only punished by their own in a way the yakuza saw fit.

The courtesans were not typical and average prostitutes. They did not stand on the street corners and flag down cars or whisper lustful obscenities in the ears of desperate men in dark alleyways. They were often beautiful and exquisite creatures hand picked by the yakuza bosses themselves because after all, they were the _true _currency of that pleasure district. They were made into formidable geisha, with elegant silk kimonos of rich emeralds, ruby and sapphire trimmed with the finest golds and ivory. Their long flowing locks were piled high atop their heads, weaved around like soft black rope pinned with the most elaborate and eloquent jeweled hair sticks. Their bodies were like the most beautiful sakura; the _somei yoshino_, fully bloomed to the purest white so much so, their skin shone in the moonlight.

Though these women might seem lowly to any outsider, they were the safest and most protected citizens of this town. The yakuza would not allow a vile hand to touch them unmannerly and without cause. And more importantly, without the right kind of offer. Still, they were of high value held upon pedestals and the normal laws of prostitution didn't apply to them. And honestly, Hayato didn't seem to have a problem with this. It wasn't that he condoned prostitution, but it was they way the yakuza treated these women that made Hayato feel like if they were if fact going to seek a life in this profession then this would be the right place to be. The _safest_ place to be.

Hayato's view of the law was conflicted. He was a man that struggled to believe in its power to right the wrongs in the world. He came from a dark place where the mafia was law, and the mafia had its _own_ laws too. People who went against the law were killed, as were the people here in Namimori Middle.

Hayato wondered if he'd ever be able to escape the world that had no sense of moral in right and wrong. He wondered if he could ever find somewhere that didn't take the law into their own hands. It wasn't vigilantism, there was nothing good behind the actions of these men. Everything they did was for power and status and if not that, it was for money and drugs.

Hayato has often thought about becoming a sort of vigilante himself, which is where lays the confliction. He _is _a man of the law, he has taken an oath and has devoted himself to following the ideals of his beloved boss who is striving to make Namimori a better place. However he sees that despite Tsuna's best efforts, the city is still vile and corrupt because _everyone _here believes they are above the law.

Murderers and rapists, thugs and drug pushers, pedophiles and human traffickers are all released from their lowly cages deep within Tsuna's rightful justice system if their price was right, if their offer was enticing enough. It make Hayato sick to his stomach, made his blood boil with unadulterated rage to the point where he often fought the urge to take the law in to _his _own hands and _do_ something about it all but that was not the way of the Tenth. That isn't the way he would do things because he believed in what was right, in proper judgment and he still had blind faith in their justice system.

So Hayato worked hard for his boss, he brought those named criminals down and allowed them to worm their way through the vines and if he was lucky enough the conviction stuck. Or they managed to slip through the cracks on various _technicalities _only for them to end up dead a few days later courtesy of some pissed off yakuza gang. When Hayato wasn't lucky, it was the criminals involved in the gangs themselves that got away with whatever they wanted and that didn't bode well with him.

Regardless, he will continue to serve Tsuna on his path to righteousness because he wanted that too. He wanted to erase the ways of the mafia, the mob, the yakuza and whatever else held the ideals that they were above and beyond the laws of man. He _needed _to, to repent for the life he had left behind in Italy, to repent for his father and sister's sins and finally to make up for his mother's tragic and untimely death.

By the time he had gotten to Sakura Town, the sun had sunk low in the sky and the dark hues of night streaked the sky. He knew all too well how reckless it was to roam the streets of Sakura Town after dark and it wasn't because of the courtesans, it wasn't because of the insignificant thugs in the lower ranks of the yakuza gangs or even the gang wars themselves. It was because he was a cop and not just any cop, he was known as _Bakufu no chūjitsuna inu _or loosely translated _loyal bakufu dog_ which he had been coined because of his devotion to Tsuna and in respects to Tsuna's peaceful and prosperous ways of handling the law. He was hated, feared and loathed by the members of Sakura Town and Hayato often believed that they would try to kill him if they ever got the chance. Without Hayato, they believed that Tsuna's weak and meager nature would be all too easy to overrule and then Namimori Middle District would be at the mercy of Sakura Town once more.

Speaking of which, didn't that pineapple snake call him a loyal dog too? And in such a condescending manner too...

Parking his car on the outskirts, he exited it and lit a cigarette. As reckless as it was, Hayato needed answers and this roundabout bullshit didn't jive well with him. He was going to talk to someone, arrange a meeting with the _Hakai _boss; let them know he came in peace despite the thick coating of bile that slicked his tongue for even suggesting that as leeway.

He began the long walk into Sakura Town, the citizens unfortunate to live in this part of the city because rent was cheap but came with higher price, had already locked up shop for the night and were currently hiding away in their humble abodes.

Hayato didn't see much life on the streets yet, this was the safer part of the town. His gait had a certain kind of swagger to it, enhanced by his slight bow-leggedness and long, lanky frame. His strut was often seen as arrogant and prideful, exuding it well through his aura too. It made him a very unapproachable person to say the least and Hayato liked it that way.

His silver hair was cast over his face, hooding his alabaster complexion and tell tale jade eyes. Though it didn't help that his hair in itself was a rarity and a surefire way to announce his presence in this forsaken town.

He passed a few tattooed thugs on his way into the heart of Sakura Town. They sneered and muttered things under their breath but Hayato paid them no heed. They weren't important enough to know anything or even pass a message along so he refused to get himself involved with these assholes.

As he walked deeper in, he felt the heated glare of many of the petty criminals that roamed the streets, huddled in groups of threes and fours, just enough to make them look intimidating and just enough to gang up on some poor passerby or citizen that wasn't smart enough to hide away from this sin city.

He passed several brothels where beautiful _oiran_ sat proudly and elegantly on their balconies for display. There was a strict look but don't touch policy when it came to these women and you couldn't just hope to crash into a brothel and smack down some yen on a counter and demand pleasurable service. These women were like fine china, only reserved for the most important and prosperous clientele.

Needless to say, it didn't stop some from following Hayato with their lust pooled eyes as he was a beautiful rarity himself. He couldn't talk as freely to them as he wanted to and he had no idea how Sasagawa managed to. Nearing the heart of Sakura Town, Hayato passed an alley where out of his peripheral vision he saw a group of five or six heavily tatted men surrounding some unfortunate scoundrel, threatening the life who ever stood in the middle. They were currently all kicking the shit out of whomever it was and Hayato inwardly sighed. Stopping to decide whether he should interfere, he noticed a large sideways diamond shaped tattoo with what appeared to be the kanji for _Hakai Dīrā._ Well nevermind him being a cop, he most certainly had to interfere now. He had wanted to stay out of the business he saw down here, forcefully turning a blind eye to the illegal activities his sharp aquatic eyes witnessed but seeing how heavily tattooed these men were let Hayato know they were higher ranked soldiers, just the kind of men he needed to have a chat with.

"Oi," he cut in. "Having a lovers quarrel of sorts?"

The men turned to him, gaudy leers on their faces and crude weapons in hand.

"Oya, look what we have here... It's the bakufu dog," one of them sneered. He had a large dug out scar running from his ear to his chin and Hayato barely noticed it through the ink on his face.

The men in the group snickered and Hayato chimed in along with them. They instantly stopped and narrowed their eyes at him. He amusingly though they all were working off one united brain with how in sync their movements were.

"It's such a beautiful night and I see you're enjoying yourselves and I'd hate to break up your beat down party but I was wondering if perhaps one of you gentlemen would love to have a little chat with me," Hayato said nonchalantly.

The man with the scar laughed dryly. "Are you fucking joking? You must be. None of us would be caught dead with you, although we wouldn't mind being caught with a _dead_ you. There's a hefty price on your head, bakufu dog."

Hayato strained, without being too obvious, to see the person within the crowd but they remained silent and the men remained in tight formation around them.

Hayato smirked and rested his hand on the butt of his gun jutting out of it's holster on his angular hip. "Why sir, are you threatening an officer of the law?"

The scarred thug snorted. "It's not a threat. We could easily take you out and quietly dispose of your body and no one would be the wiser. You of all people should know that."

Hayato hummed. "I suppose you're right, that is a possibility. But not to toot my own horn or anything," he said with a laugh, "but I'm an _excellent _marksman."

The men in the crowd began muttering and shouting until the man with the scar raised a hand to silence them. It appeared he was their leader, or at least someone of higher ranking and Hayato knew this was the person he should be talking to.

"What are you doing here?" he asked seriously, narrowing his eyes and grimacing.

"Well you see, kind thug-san, I need to arrange a meeting with your boss -"

The men behind their leader erupted with laughter until he turned to glare at them and they were silenced once more.

It began to make Hayato nervous that the person hadn't called out or begged for salvation. Hayato figured they were smart enough to stay put and shut up for fear of their life, or that they were dead. And if it were the latter, then this exchange would prove to be quite a hassle for him.

"You know that you won't get near him," the leader said smugly. "You'll have a bullet in every vital organ of your body before you leave here. I've already told you the people here want you dead and will pay handsomely for your head on a platter."

Hayato laughed. This was all so amusing to him. He was a cop and his life was so boldly being threatened right here in the open. Not for one minute did he ever think they weren't telling the truth, but the irony of it all was what made him giddy. "Speaking of heads, I wanted to talk about Ikeda Nosaru. He was a part of your gang, he showed up dead two days ago just outside town. Any of you know how?"

The scarred man reached behind his back for his weapon and Hayato gripped his.

"Are you really going to make me remove my gun? That's awfully mean of you, thug-san. Do you have any idea how meddlesome the paperwork is for just pulling it out of -"

The leader of the small _Hakai _gang brazenly pulled out his gun and pointed it at Hayato.

With the same timing, Hayato pulled out his AutoMag and pointed it at the thug.

"Enough talking," he snapped. "I'll give you a fair warning _only _because you came here on business and not to stick your nose in our affairs. However, if you continue to fuck around here, you're gonna end up dead."

Hayato latched off the safety on his gun and smirked. "And I am giving _you_ ample warning that before you squeeze that trigger, I'll put a bullet in each one of your skulls and you'll drop like the vile flies that you are. _Capiche_?"

The scarred man didn't make a move to lower his gun and they stood at a stalemate for a minute that to Hayato felt like an eternity. He wasn't kidding when he said that he was an excellent marksman and that he indeed would be able to shoot them all but he'd rather not have to explain to the Tsuna why there were six dead bodies at his feet and possibly ruin his chances at getting a meeting with Tomakazu.

Eventually the leader snarled and lowered his weapon. "I'm going to forget that you said that. You'd better hope you make it out of here alive, bakufu dog."

"Make sure you arrange that meeting, thug-san. Tell your boss I'll bring tea," Hayato offered with a sly smirk.

"Fuck you," the scarred man spit out. He motioned to his posse and they leered at Hayato before they sauntered down the alley in the opposite direction, leaving the body of the person they had been relentlessly beating moments before Hayato arrived.

Taking a moment to slip his gun back in its holster after flicking the safety back on, Hayato squinted at the back of the person lying on the asphalt. They were definitely male and Hayato took a tentative step forward wondering if the smaller gang of men had actually left the alley and if he should let his guard down to help this man. With another step forward, Hayato saw something that made a nonsensical dread creep up his ribs from the pit of his stomach. He couldn't understand where this emotion came from because Hayato really never gets scared but this feeling was undeniably fear.

He didn't hesitate to quickly close the gap between himself and the limp body on the ground. The fear grew in it's intensity as he noticed the shallow rise and fall of the all too familiar back in front of him. Pushing it down and trying to rationalize it at the same time proved difficult and he fell to his knees and quickly felt for a pulse. There was no relief when he felt the light but still pulsing vein because that's when he became aware of a small pool of blood seeping out from the underside.

He cursed under his breath and just to make sure what he was seeing was an actual reality, he gripped the shoulder of the man and turned him over slowly on to his back. With little effort the man rolled over and Hayato's breath hitched in his throat when he was his irrational fear was validated.

Bleeding out from a stab wound to his abdomen and heavily bruised and broken was none other than the reporter, Yamamoto Takeshi.


	10. Book I : My Saint : Chapter X

_**Chapter X**_

* * *

Hayato really can't say how he managed to drag Yamamoto's unconscious body out of Sakura Town and into his car. Call it some kind of adrenaline rush, you know, the one you get when your fear takes over and superhuman strength kicks into gear in that dangerous kind of situation. Maybe it wasn't dangerous for Hayato, but he was overwhelmed with emotions he didn't even know he had as he hoisted the taller and heavier man on to his back. He prayed that all the thugs would have somewhere else to be so that he wasn't taken advantage of or worse, killed, while he was vulnerable. God must have been listening because Hayato didn't see another soul save the courtesans on their balconies while he trudged his way out of Sakura Town.

Driving rapidly through the streets with his siren blaring, which he _hated _to use and ignoring red lights and traffic signs, Hayato couldn't decide where to take Yamamoto. He wasn't sure how bad his injuries were internally but the stab wound to his abdomen luckily was shallow. He warred with his conscience for the better half of the drive. He kept thinking not a hospital, because he couldn't very well explain what he had been doing in Sakura Town without a partner to Tsuna and he wanted Yamamoto to explain how the _hell _he ended up there before anyone had the chance to coerce him into false story.

He knew how to treat the mild lacerations and abrasions, even the shallow stab wound but he'd have to figure out if Yamamoto had any broken or cracked ribs and any internal bleeding. Taking a sideways glance in his direction, the taught expression of panic that has never marred Hayato's otherwise stoic face worked itself into one of anger as he drank in the sight of Yamamoto slumped against the passenger side door, still bleeding but breathing. He was angry with him, the stupid idiot going down there _alone_, not protected or armed poking his reporter nose where it didn't belong. But he was absolutely _furious _at those fucking bastards that did this to him and livid towards the stupid bitch that likely put him up to it.

He guessed the the logical (if you could call it logical) side of him won the war when he pulled into his driveway. He jolted from his car and raced to the passenger side, gingerly pulling Yamamoto from the seat. He managed to carry him to the door, opening it and carried him to his black leather sofa.

He checked Yamamoto's pulse again and it hadn't weakened yet so he hurried to the kitchen to grab a pair of scissors to cut Yamamoto's shirt open and then to the bathroom to get medical supplies.

He grabbed hold of Yamamoto's shirt and started cutting, being careful not to graze the sensitive bruised skin with the blades. Once open, Hayato took a towel and applied pressure with one hand and grabbed a bottle of peroxide with the other, twisting off the cap with his teeth. Hayato then removed the towel and grabbed a cotton swab and wiped the wound. It bubbled puss and Hayato bit his lip hard enough to draw blood to keep a slew of colourful angry curses from escaping them. It must've been a dirty raunchy knife that cut him. He fucking hated those bastards for taking advantage of Yamamoto like that, just who the hell did they think they were? How was ganging up and beating a defenseless man who was too stupid and naïve for his own good justifiable?

The bleeding slowed down and Hayato cleaned it once last time, hoping that the burn would elicit a hiss from Yamamoto but there wasn't even a wince. He was still unconscious. Hayato swabbed his own bloody hands and opened a sterile needle. He proceeded to lace the sutures through Yamamoto's flesh, closing the wound as tightly as possible. He dressed the wound and began cleaning the other cuts and he would never admit it, hell he didn't even realize it at the time, but his touch was gentle and almost loving while tending to him.

"Who is _that_?"

Hayato's head jolted up and he saw his sister exiting his bedroom and he mentally kicked himself for forgetting she was here.

"A guy," he answered curtly.

Bianchi, who was actually dressed decently in loose pajama pants and one of Hayato's t-shirts, rolled her eyes and padded over to the sofa.

"I can _see _that, brother. I mean, who is that and why is he on our couch?"

Hayato noted she had used _our_ to describe _his _sofa but decided against complaining about it. "He's a reporter that I met a few days ago. I found him like this in a really bad part of the city."

Bianchi scoffed. "So you just figured you'd bring him home with you instead of to a hospital?"

Hayato glared at his sister over Yamamoto's body and the sofa. "Shut up, sis. I need to wake him up. Do you have anything on you?"

Bianchi looked at him with puzzlement. "Hayato, I don't know-"

Hayato growled. "Bianchi, I know you carry poison with you all the time. Do you have anything else with you? Like fuck, I don't know... smelling salts?"

Bianchi stared at him for a moment before her face lit up. "Oh! Yes, actually I have some ammonium carbonate I can concot into a mixture for something like that. Give me a sec."

"Remind me to question you why you have chemical compounds that you carry around with you so leisurely and then remind me of how and why you aren't the one that poisoned your husbands," Hayato said sourly, placing the last bit of gauze across a deep gash on Yamamoto's chin.

Bianchi sighed. "And you remind me later of why you're so cruel to your big sister when all I've ever been to you is loving," she replied, walking back into Hayato's bedroom.

"You poisoned me several times as a kid, asshole! Tell me how that's love!" Hayato called after her as he picked up the mass of bloodied towels, cotton swabs and discarded gauze.

"It was an accident, brother!" she yelled from the bedroom.

Hayato decided to stop this clusterfuck bantering and knelt down beside Yamamoto again, his emerald eyes roaming over the stilled body on his sofa and when he looked up at Yamamoto's face there was a sharp pain that shot across his chest. Yamamoto's face was contorted in pain, even though he was unconscious but yet all Hayato saw when he looked at him was the happy and innocent man he met in the coffee shop. The alluring and challenging man he sat with at the bar and the lustful but sweet man he was with in the motel room earlier this morning.

Feelings that Hayato has never felt nor knew he had and quite frankly didn't know what to call them, began to take hold of him, making him feel a little uneasy and angry all at the same time. Still, he found himself reaching out a heavily ring-adorned, hesitant and rather shaky hand to card through Yamamoto's thick raven hair when Bianchi came strolling out of his bedroom, causing him to violently snatch his hand back once reality sunk in and he remembered who he was and who the man on the couch was.

Just a one night stand. Nothing more.

"Here," Bianchi said, producing a vial and handing it to Hayato. "This should work."

Hayato took the vial and muttered thanks as he wafted the mixture under Yamamoto's nose. With a sharp inhale and a groan a few seconds later, Yamamoto's eyes fluttered open. Hayato watched him blink repetitiously and Bianchi leaned over the couch to peer down into the reporter's face.

"Will you give him some fucking space?" Hayato growled.

She looked over at him and shrugged. "Sorry, I was curious. What's his name?"

Yamamoto instinctively tried to sit up and he instantly hissed at the pain from the movement. He laid back down and rubbed his eyes. "Go... Gokudera?" he muttered thickly, clearly confused as to how he ended up here.

Hayato sighed. "Yeah, it's me... You're at my house. You're pretty fucked up. Does it hurt anywhere, like any sharp pains while you're breathing?"

Yamamoto looked over at Hayato who was still crouched on the wooden floor in front of the sofa and shook his head slowly.

"Other than your stab wound, does any area feel more tender than it should?"

"I... I don't know," Yamamoto answered tiredly. "My... my glasses?"

"I didn't see them there with you. Did they get broken? Can you see okay without them?" asked Hayato, sounding more motherly than he wanted to. Which was... not at all.

"I think they might have been knocked off my face at some point. I think when the scarred guy hit me. I can see okay, though. I have a spare pair at home."

"Che... those bastards. They must have taken your camera too. All you had with you was the bag. That's how I knew it was you. I saw the strap across your back."

"Awh man. That was a really expensive camera," Yamamoto said frowning.

"Tch!" Hayato felt his rage creeping up his sides again. Now that Yamamoto was lucid enough to talk, Hayato silently fumed at his stupidity. How could this guy care more about a stupid camera than his glasses or his own life even?!

"You idiot," he began harshly. "What the fuck were you thinking going down there? _Especially _after dark?"

"Hayato, I don't really think now is the time for an interrogation. The man's been stabbed and beat up, you should let him rest," Bianchi scolded, making her way into Hayato's kitchen.

"N-no, it's fine," Yamamoto said. "I uh..." He lifted a hand to his chin. "I got cut here?"

Hayato raised an eyebrow. "You don't remember?"

Yamamoto shook his head. "No... after I got stabbed, I got hit on the back of the head and passed out. Before that I just remember a lot of punching and kicking. Then the hard punch to my stomach and then I was bleeding all of a sudden. Those guys were serious, haha."

"Here," Bianchi said, coming back into the living room with a glass of water. "Drink this."

"You really are a fucking idiot, Yamamoto. What an unbelievable guy."

Yamamoto took the glass from her with a unsteady hand and the more Hayato watched him, the more angrier he got. He couldn't decipher the direction of his anger however.

Yamamoto gulped down the water too quickly and choked and Bianchi scolded him too.

"Now you should know better to take it slow, reporter-san," she said almost mockingly.

"How did I...? Who is this?" he asked, still trying to catch his breath. Hayato noticed that he didn't feel much pain by the way his expressions changed. He either wasn't as badly hurt as he looked or his body was numb due to traumatic shock. Somewhere in the back of his angry storm of a brain, he prayed it was the former.

"This is our house, he found you and brought you here. You're a very lucky man," Bianchi said.

"He's a very idiotic man," Hayato snapped. "What the fuck were you thinking?"

Yamamoto frowned. "Sorry... I was just doing my job, interviewing the people to get their take on the murders," he said sheepishly.

"And they nearly killed you for it, stupid!" Hayato's voice was rich with noticeable concern.

Bianchi looked from Hayato to Yamamoto inquisitively. "So how do you two know each other?"

"I told you already, I collaborated with him on an article for he wrote for the case I'm working on," Hayato remarked, eyeing Bianchi suspiciously. It wasn't like her to go so long without a licentious remark or anything similar.

She leaned forward on the back of the sofa and put her chin in her palm. Her port wine coloured hair fell in straight locks over her shoulders. "Are you fucking my brother?"

Spoke too soon.

"Wh-what?" Yamamoto choked.

"Bianchi what the fuck!"

Hayato gaped. Bianchi knew nothing about his sex life, especially his preference in partners. But in a way he wasn't surprised, sex was something she was definitely skilled in and she was as perceptive as her brother but how she was able establish a connection was beyond him.

"Are you fucking my brother?" Bianchi repeated.

"She's your sister?" Yamamoto asked, looking from Hayato to Bianchi. "Ah, I see the resemblance... she's almost as beautiful as you are," Yamamoto commented in awe, his eyes locked on Bianchi's.

"Oi, you fucking idiot! Don't say such things in front of her!" Hayato snarled. His cheeks flushed and he glared at Yamamoto who grinned at him.

"Well it's true, Gokudera is beautiful. Especially when your cheeks get that pretty colour," he said, grin getting wider.

Bianchi laughed. "Well I guess that answers that question."

As Hayato's cheeks flared red, he resisted the urge to stab Yamamoto himself and growled. "I'm not fuckin' beautiful, I'm a fuckin' man for fuck sakes!"

Bianchi smirked triumphantly and Hayato shot up from his place on the floor and stormed off into the kitchen. He grabbed the bottle of whiskey from underneath the sink and poured himself a glass and lit a cigarette. From there he could hear Bianchi giving Yamamoto the third degree.

"What's your name?"

"Aha, I'm Yamamoto Takeshi. What's yours?"

"Bianchi Filippi. So you're a reporter, Yamamoto Takeshi?"

"Ahaha, yeah. So you have a different last name then Gokudera? Are you married?"

"I was. Hayato has his mother's name. Don't you know anything about him?"

"Oi!" Hayato shouted a warning from the kitchen. He shot back the whiskey and poured himself another.

He heard Yamamoto laugh nervously. That idiot laughed at _everything _and he shouldn't be laughing at _anything_ considering he was just beat and nearly stabbed to death and he was now being interrogated by his psycho sister.

Determined to stop this Q&A before too much of his life was revealed to a stranger, Hayato entered the living room once more to see Bianchi leaned over the couch like a predatory bird while Yamamoto lay in a somewhat slumped sitting position, as comfortable as he could get with the wound to his stomach. Yamamoto turned his head and smiled at Hayato and something in Hayato's stomach fluttered. He took a long and satisfying drag of his cigarette.

"Bianchi, I need you to go to the store for some things," he said.

"Why me?" she asked, losing interest in Yamamoto. She flipped her hair over her shoulder.

"Because I'm not stupid enough to leave the two of you alone," Hayato replied making his way over to the coffee table and sitting on it.

"Jealous?" Bianchi asked with a wink.

"As if," Hayato said with a snort.

Yamamoto continued to laugh.

"It's just down the street, a few houses down there's a convenience store. Grab some aspirin and cigarettes. And... milk."

"Milk?" Bianchi asked raising a brow. "Since when do you drink milk?"

"Che, it isn't for me. The idiot likes milk. He ordered it at the coffee shop the other day." Hayato shut his mouth abruptly when he realized he remembered that. He felt his face get hot. "Ugh, can you just go already? You're wasting time asking stupid questions and it's annoying. It's getting late and you shouldn't be out past ten."

"That's really thoughtful of you, Gokudera!"

Hayato shot him a glare. He grinned.

"Hayato... what if you know... someone sees me?"

Hayato took another drag and let his lips curl in to a smirk. "You'll be safe in that outfit. They'll be looking for a slut, not -"

"Gokudera! That isn't a nice way to talk to your sister," Yamamoto said, appalled.

"I liked it better when you were unconscious," Hayato said, pointing to Yamamoto and Bianchi sighed.

"Alright, alright. I can see you want time alone with your boyfriend."

"Che! He's not my _boyfriend_," Hayato snapped.

Yamamoto laughed nervously again and then winced as he pulled on the stitches. He hissed momentarily and Hayato inched closer to inspect the gauze for any bleeding.

"Serves you right for laughing," Hayato said but instead of his tone coming out snide, it sounded concerned. He mentally kicked himself for probably the millionth time tonight for sounding the way he did.

"Sorry," Yamamoto muttered.

The two fell silent. Bianchi grabbed her wallet from Hayato's room and left the house without another word. Now that the two were alone, Hayato leaned closer to Yamamoto and locked on to his hazel eyes. He fought to not falter when again he noticed how bright and clear his eyes were when he didn't have glasses on.

"I want you to tell me honestly, what were you doing down there, Yamamoto? You could have been killed, idiot."

"Is Gokudera worried about me?" he asked with a smile.

"Don't try to change the subject, you bastard. And stop smiling like what just happened wasn't a big deal. Who's brilliant idea was it?"

Yamamoto sighed. "Miura-san asked me to interview the people in Sakura Town -"

"Why didn't you just go in the morning, you idiot -"

"She told me I needed to go tonight because that's when I could talk to the gangs. She wanted the information for tomorrow's article."

Hayato felt his rage boil over and he nearly snapped the cigarette in between his teeth. "Che! That fucking stupid woman, she's gonna hear it from me, I-"

Despite the painful stretch it would have on his wound, Yamamoto leaned forward and grabbed Hayato's hand. His hand was warm and calloused. "I'm okay," he said with a smile.

Hayato didn't pull his hand away but he continued to glower at Yamamoto. "You're not okay. If I hadn't been there you'd probably be dead and I'd be investigating your fucking murder. You're not very smart, are you?"

Sitting up and wincing, Yamamoto tried to smile. He squeezed Hayato's hand. "No, I guess I'm not. Haha."

Hayato was suffering from an overwhelming tidal wave of emotion ranging from anger and panic to relief and something else and he really started to despise the way that this man made him feel. He made Hayato feel vulnerable and open with nameless emotions and nothing like himself. It wasn't a good feeling but it was at the same time. He was so confused and he hated not knowing things, it didn't jive well with his mathematical brain.

Yamamoto leaned in close and Hayato could smell his fresh, clean scent underneath the acidic copper smell of all the blood that covered him and Yamamoto. Hayato froze and his heart thudded hard against his chest. The cigarette's curl of smoke wrapped around their heads until Hayato crushed it out on the coffee table.

He couldn't tear his gaze away and something shifted in Yamamoto's eyes, that same shift he had seen in the bar when Yamamoto challenged him to a drinking contest. It was that same look of sharp focus and determination, it was a look that made heat spread throughout Hayato's stomach and his heart race.

"Gokudera..." he whispered. "Can I kiss you? "

It wasn't the first time, his previous partners he slept with always wanted to kiss and cuddle but Hayato associated kissing with lust and passion and those weren't things he felt when he took them back to motels. They were nothing but strokes to his ego, stress relievers, satisfiers of his primal needs. What blew him away was the husky voice Yamamoto used to whisper his name, the set seriousness of his eyes and the lack of a smile on his face. He quite liked this look and it was strange how when Yamamoto shifted like this, Hayato felt like he was at his mercy and for someone that enjoyed dominating everything, having _all_ the control, it was thrilling to him.

Yamamoto was so close that Hayato could feel his the heat of his breath on his skin and a tingle shot up his spine. He was focused on Yamamoto's hazel eyes which he couldn't get enough of because they were a rare colour for his ethnicity and Hayato has always been a fan of the rare and recherché.

He couldn't find his voice to answer, his mind was screaming _no, don't do it_ _Hayato._ _Don't complicate things_. It was demanding that he reach out and shove this man out of his personal space. But when Yamamoto began to close the gap between their mouths Hayato didn't move. Instead he felt his eyelids drop and then there were warm lips brushing hesitantly against his. They pressed a little harder and Yamamoto's tongue fanned across his lips. Hayato stiffened. There was fluttering in his stomach that felt like there were a million hummingbirds flapping their wings at all once at over eighty beats per second. His heart was pounding against his chest and his brain raced with conflicting thoughts that he couldn't catch up to. Then the warmth of Yamamoto's lips left his and the cool shock to them almost made. him whimper. Coming back to reality, he opened his eyes he was faced with Yamamoto's alarmed expression.

"_Shit._ Gokudera... I-I'm sorry, I didn't mean to cross that line, I just uh-"

Hayato surged forward, grasping fistfuls of Yamamoto's thick hair and yanking his head down, crushing their lips together hungrily. Yamamoto froze, but Hayato parted his lips and ran the tip of his tongue along the crease of his mouth, making Yamamoto respond. Hayato's heart hammered against his chest and the fluttering he felt in his stomach exploded, flooding it with heat. Yamamoto's hands shot through his hair and fingernails scraped at his scalp sending pleasurably painful tingles down his neck and spine. He parted his lips more and Yamamoto's tongue snaked in, the rough side running along the palate of his mouth. Hayato's hands fell to Yamamoto's shoulders and he pushed him back into the sofa, following with his body while they were still lip locked and straddled his lap. Yamamoto gasped and Hayato delved in, taking back the dominance of their tongues.

Yamamoto tasted saccharine, like sweet shari rice and strawberry milk and while Hayato had an intense dislike for anything sweet, the inside of Yamamoto's mouth tasted amazing. He rolled his tongue over his and he had no experience with kissing at all so he relied on instinct and it was apparent that he was doing something right when Yamamoto groaned into his mouth.

Their kiss was full of teeth and tongue and finally Hayato pulled away for air with a thin strand of saliva joint at their bottom lips. He huffed as Yamamoto leaned forward and fiercely attacked his neck. Hayato shivered when Yamamoto nipped and licked trails of wet heat up his neck and around the shell of his ear. His hands returned to Yamamoto's hair again, clutching and pulling and Yamamoto pressed hard and desperate kisses under his jaw and up to his open mouth.

This kiss wasn't any less of a passionate burn than the first one and Hayato could feel Yamamoto's hardness underneath him, driving him to roll his hips slightly just to get a little friction. Yamamoto broke the kiss, panting.

"I... I want you, Gokudera," he said, his voice low and husky.

"I can't... your stictches," he gasped and smashed their mouths together in a lip bruising kiss.

Groaning, Yamamoto dropped one of his hands down to Hayato's crotch and pressed down on the bulge with the palm of his hand. "Let me make you feel good," he whispered, rubbing the fabric over Hayato's groin.

Hayato has never felt so much carnal lust in his sexual lifetime and the touch of Yamamoto's hand sent electrifying waves of pleasure through him. "Unh... sister," he moaned, pulling at Yamamoto's hair as he bit down on his collar bone.

This Yamamoto was different from the one in the motel and it caused an exciting thrill that resounded through each one of his limbs. He could feel the lust pooling in his belly as Yamamoto gripped on of his hips, rubbed his cock through his jeans and assaulted his Adam's apple with his mouth.

"Fuck," he moaned and he continued to grind down on Yamamoto's evident erection until his thigh must have hit Yamamoto the wrong way, causing him to stiffen and hiss from pain.

Hayato scrambled off Yamamoto's lap and saw the white gauze covering his wound was seeping red and he cursed in Italian, running his hand through his hair frustratingly. "_Shit! _You ripped your stitches. Fuck! I'm-"

Yamamoto looked down at the bandage and back up at Hayato and smiled sheepishly. "It's okay, I'm okay."

Hayato growled. "You fucking _moron. _Do you get off on pain or something?"

Yamamoto laughed. "Haha, no. Kissing you... felt too good. It was like my own... anesthetic."

Feeling heat spread through his cheeks, Hayato clicked his tongue off the roof of his mouth and looked away. "Idiot."

He heard keys in the door and a creak when it opened. "I'm home, Hayato," Bianchi announced before closing the door behind her. She sounded a little too amused at the thought of walking in on something she could later use against him.

"I hear that," he muttered and composed himself, straightening out his hair and clothes. He shot a warning glance at Yamamoto who just grinned. Hayato hoped he wasn't too stupid to know his look meant for him to keep quiet.

"I got your milk," Bianchi said, walking into the living room. She handed the carton to Yamamoto, taking a look at Hayato's flushed face and smirking. "I hope I'm not interruppting anything."

"Thanks!" Yamamoto said with an ear to ear smile.

"Che... you're not. I was just about to go shower. I can trust you won't try to kill him while I'm gone?"

Bianchi tossed the cigarettes towards Hayato and rolled her eyes. "You always think the worst of me, brother. I'm really insulted."

Hayato caught the cigarettes with one hand and sighed. "Don't do anything stupid," he said to the both of them and walked up the hallway to his bedroom. He really didn't like leaving them alone for so many reasons and none of them had anything to do with being jealous of his perverted sister and her possible advances to a very stupid Yamamoto, who probably wouldn't know what to do with himself if she did. He was mainly afraid about them talking about him and thinking of all the embarrassing things they would say made his cheeks burn. However, the memomry of Yamamoto's kiss was still seared onto his lips and the adrenaline from moments before was still coursing through his veins and he needed a cold shower to shock him back to reality. He couldn't even begin to touch on all the emotions surging through him at this moment and he needed some separation to give his racing mind time to think.

Bianchi's shit was scattered all over his bedroom and he growled. He was a neat freak, for the most part, and he hated to have his things in disarray. He picked up all her clothing and shoved them into her suitcase, cramming the lid shut. He could hear the mindless chatter between the two of them as he dragged her suitcase to the guest bedroom. Why she had decided to set up shop in his bedroom was beyond him. He made his way to the bathroom where he quickly showered, watching the water at the bottom of the tub turn pink as it was mixed with Yamamoto's blood that washed off him. He tried hard not to think even though he wanted to, but every thought he had jumbled into another that made no more sense than the one before it.

Hayato didn't want to take too long in the shower and leave Yamamoto at the mercy of his insane sister so he quickly stepped out after washing his hair and threw a towel around his waist. He didn't want to go out of the bathroom in just a towel either, but in his huff to clean Bianchi's crap out of his room he had forgotten to bring something to change into.

He had only been in the shower for about fifteen minutes but when he opened the door, he heard nothing but silence. Fearing the worst he made his way down the hall and took a look in the living room. Bianchi sat on the sofa leafing through a magazine but there was no Yamamoto.

"What did you do?" Hayato asked accusingly.

Bianchi didn't jump at his voice but she turned her head and smiled. "My, Hayato... you shouldn't walk around the house so scandalously. You'll give a girl-" she laughed as she corrected herself, "-or _guy_ a minor heart attack with that provocative body of yours."

"You're so god damned annoying. Where's the idiot?" he snapped.

"Relax, I didn't do anything to your boyfriend-"

"He's not my _boyfriend._"

"He's in your room, probably sleeping. I gave him a mild sedative. I saw the bloody bandage. Wouldn't want you to cause him to burst a few more," Bianchi said with a smirk.

"You asshole," Hayato growled. "I don't trust you."

"That hurt, Hayato. Maybe it's you I shouldn't trust. You're the one hiding this whole double life of yours from your loving sister. Why didn't you tell me?"

"I'm not hiding anything, it's just none of your business," he remarked curtly.

Bianchi set the magazine on the coffee table. "Is he good to you?"

"What?"

"Yamamoto Takeshi... is he good to you? Does he treat you well?"

"Bianchi, I've already told you. I just fucking met the guy. We're not together, fuck."

"The way you look at each other says differently," Bianchi said and this time there was no mocking or amusing tone.

Hayato felt his face get warm. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"The way you look at one another... it's the same way Romeo and I used to look at each other," she said sadly. "True love, Hayato. That's what I see when I look at the two of you."

Hayato scoffed. "You've must have inhaled too many toxic fumes from your poisons. Love, what a joke. I don't even know what the fuck that is."

"Heh... street life in Palermo really did a number on you, didn't it? What happened to you down there?"

"It wasn't Palermo, it was everything. You, that bastard and that bitch, Shamal, the mafia... fuck."

"I'm sorry that you think I hated you so much, Hayato. I really don't. You're my gorgeous little brother and believe it or not, I really do love you."

"Yeah well, you're just as fucked up as I am, if not more so... your opinion doesn't really count," Hayato shot back.

"Think whatever you like, Hayato. Father and mother love you too, and even that perverted bastard."

Hayato scoffed again. "Yeah, right. They had my mother killed. And your mother used to treat me like shit and I never understood why until I found out I wasn't her kid. Father didn't care if I lived or died after my mother was murdered and Shamal was fucked in more ways than one so he doesn't count either. Look, I'm not really in the mood to talk about this. I've had a long fucking day."

"That's fine. I just wanted to let you know that you should open your heart a little. It feels good to be loved. You deserve it too, Hayato."

Hayato sighed. "And end up like one of your husbands? No thank you. I'm going to bed."

Bianchi smiled. "With him?"

"Well you're the stupid pervert that told him to lie down in my bed, so yeah, with _him._" Hayato turned and padded up the hallway.

"True love, brother! True love!" she called after him.

"Fuck off, you crazy woman!" Hayato shouted back but there wasn't any venom in his tone. Maybe because he knew that though she was crazy, she did love him and he in his own way, loved her too.

When he entered his bedroom he saw Yamamoto stretched out on his bed, clad only in his boxers. He looked peaceful and innocent, exactly the way he did this morning and he thought about just how long of a day this had been. Too many events had happened, too many things to work through and with that epiphany he became very exhausted. His body ached and his eyelids felt heavy. The idea of Yamamoto's warmth and the comfort of his bed seemed so inviting right now.

He pulled out a pair of his own boxers from his dresser drawer and wriggled into them, hanging the towel on the hook drilled into the back of his door. He felt a tug at the corner of his mouth and he smiled as he crawled into his bed, pulling the blankets over them. He was right, the heat emanating off the man next to him _was_ inviting and comforting. He didn't dare get too close, he wasn't ready for that yet but as turned on to his side and felt his lids droop, Yamamoto's strong arm fell over his waist and pulled him close. He shifted until he melded his body to fit perfectly alongside Hayato's.

Hayato let out a stutter in protest but was silenced when Yamamoto rested his chin on his shoulder and began snoring softly in his ear. Hayato strained his neck to look over his shoulder and Yamamoto's eyes were closed and a relaxed smile graced his face. Hayato felt that familiar twitch in his cock as its interest was peaked by the hot, sinewy body that pressed into his and the flutter returned to the pit of his stomach. The situation wasn't familiar yet this was the second time he found himself relishing in the strong arms that wrapped around him tightly and the soft, warm breath on his neck.

Relaxed and at ease, Hayato closed his eyes and allowed sleep to reach out and pull him in.


	11. Book I : My Saint : Chapter XI

_**Chapter XI**_

* * *

Hayato awoke to the loud buzzing of his cell phone vibrating on the surface of his bedside table. He thought it was weird because he didn't remember bringing his phone into his bedroom last night. The idea of Bianchi slipping into his room while he slept was unnerving. He shuddered.

There was soft snoring in his ear and a fuzzy feeling in his chest. The warmth from the sunlight that streamed through his bedroom made him feel cozy and relaxed but the warmth at his back made him tingle all over. He didn't want to move even an inch from the surrounding comfortable heat but knowing that it was probably work calling made him jut an arm out from beneath the covers and grab the phone. He answered without looking at the ID.

"Yeah," he answered groggily.

Yamamoto stirred behind him, but Hayato didn't move.

"_Yo Octopus Head! I've got an extreme lead! Are you up yet?!_"

Hayato groaned. "Ugh, shut up Lawn Head. You're too noisy in the mornings."

"_Another extreme hangover_?"

"No. What lead?"

"_My informant called me. He's got more information on the dude with the katana. Says he saw him last night!_"

"When can we speak to him?"

"_Dude's all messed up to the extreme, so I'm thinkin' for his shit to be worth any credibility, we should probably wait it out a bit._"

Yamamoto's arm squeezed him tighter but this time, Hayato wasn't swatting anything away. Instead, morning wood twitched in response.

"Why don't you bring him into the station to sober up, then we'll talk to him. See what kind of fuckery he has to tell us then," he said with a scoff. "Call me when you get him." Hayato hung up abruptly before Ryohei could say anything else. He wasn't ready to get out of bed just yet.

Yamamoto kissed his shoulder lightly. "Work?" he asked in a smooth voice, too smooth for Hayato to hear first thing in the morning. He was already aching with anticipation.

He turned on to his back and Yamamoto propped himself up on one arm, leaning in to kiss across Hayato's collar bone and sternum.

"Mm... Yes, work. Don't you have work too?" Hayato asked, sliding his fingers through Yamamoto's hair. The feel of the dark locks were rich and soft.

Yamamoto grinned against skin, though he couldn't see it and Hayato wondered if he should be freaked out that he could already read nuances in Yamamoto's body language.

"I'm taking a personal day," he said, kissing his way up Hayato's throat and chuckling.

"Pfft, I'd comment on your slacking off but that wench deserves it. See how well she fares without a story from her _star_ journalist," Hayato remarked sourly.

"Gokudera's too cute when he's mad," Yamamoto purred in his ear with a nibble.

Hayato felt an embarrassing tickle when Yamamoto's breath hit his skin and his face started to get hot. Nevertheless, he was enjoying the way he felt in this moment.

"Che... just shut up and kiss me already."

Yamamoto chuckled and planted his warm lips firmly on Hayato's. Every time he feels that connection, the synapses in his brain explode with sensory overload. The kiss is just as electric as the ones prior and Hayato has to stop and wonder why he's never wanted to do this before with anyone else. But then he has to think that it has nothing really to do with kissing in itself, but everything to do with the way he felt about Yamamoto Takeshi. Even if he didn't know exactly what that feeling was.

The truth was from the moment he saw Yamamoto Takeshi, somewhere in the back of his mind he had imagined what his lips would feel like and how the inside of his mouth would taste like.

Yamamoto's hand traced over Hayato's chest and stomach, teasing the sharp lines and planes in his torso with his fingertips. Hayato felt a shiver run through him when he began rubbing his crotch through the silk fabric of his boxers. Yamamoto broke their heated kiss of tongues clashing and teeth nipping to work his way down Hayato's chest, landing on one of his hardened nipples. The heat from his mouth and the sharp sting of his teeth kneading sent a ripple of pleasure up his spine, causing him to arch his back into the sensation.

Hayato has never allowed another man to touch him in the way Yamamoto is now. He calls all the shots, he's domineering in every way and when they try persistently, he ends up leaving. Yamamoto is different, he has been from the very beginning despite Hayato's desperate attempts to reject it.

A mewl escaped his lips as Yamamoto flicked the sensitive bud with his tongue and proceeded to kiss down his torso to the silvery trail of hair that disappeared beneath the waistband of his boxers. He bit his lip to prevent another embarrassing sound from leaving them and cursed himself for becoming so weak when it came to this man's touch. He wanted to take the control back but there was something about the way Yamamoto could dominate him without even being aggressive turned him on so much that all he could do was let it happen.

Yamamoto tugged off Hayato's boxers, looking up at him with that same sharp focus in his hazel eyes from before and licked his lips. It drove Hayato crazy. Keeping his eyes focused on Hayato's, Yamamoto licked a hard stripe up his shaft and swirled his tongue around the head, dipping his tongue into the slit and lapping up the pearly beads of pre-cum.

"I-I don't reciprocate s-so_.._"

Yamamoto looked up and grinned but it wasn't his usual grin, it was something else. Mischievous, perhaps.

"Ma, no worries. I'm gonna make Gokudera feel good," he said, his voice low and sulty. The sound of it made Hayato shiver.

Hayato knew he should be saying something here, like _wait _or _stop_ or _hey_ _I'm_ _not wearing a condom _but their eyes were deadlocked and every rational thought he had melted away when Yamamoto's took him into his mouth without taking his hazel eyes off him. Hayato let out a long groan and fisted Yamamoto's hair. His mouth was hot and wet and cock fit perfectly. Don't misunderstand, it not like he's small; he is definitely above average but Yamamoto is talented and his lips and tongue found their way to the base of his cock with ease, with the tip of his head hitting the back of Yamamoto's throat. He sucked, pulling at his sensitive flesh with his mouth and grazing it gently with just enough teeth.

"Oh shit... ah fuck!" Hayato moaned breathlessly.

Eyes shuttered, Hayato tugged on his hair and bucked his hips on instinct. He heard Yamamoto gag and choke a little, but he didn't stop so Hayato continued to fuck his inviting mouth. He threw his head back and moaned and with this good of a feeling, he could feel his impending crash. Coming so soon was embarrassing and _rare,_ he didn't want to come yet. He gave a warning tug on Yamamoto's hair, yanking his head back. Yamamoto stopped and Hayato looked down at him, panting and Yamamoto grinned while licking his lips.

"Come here, you fucking sexy bastard," he growled.

The grin that spread across Yamamoto's face was a feral one and it made Hayato shiver with excitement. Yamamoto divested himself of his own boxers and straddled him. He leaned forward and smashed their lips together in a hungry, lustful kiss that would leave them breathless.

Yamamoto kissed down his jaw and neck in a frenzy while Hayato wrapped his hand around both their cocks and stroked hard. Yamamoto thrust into each stroke while he bit and sucked at the flesh on his neck.

Hayato turned his head and caught Yamamoto's lip with his teeth, dragging him down into another fiery kiss. Switching hands, Hayato slid two fingers into Yamamoto's mouth as they kissed and the way he sucked on his fingers reminded Hayato of the way he had sucked on his cock and he shuddered with delectation. He pulled them from Yamamoto's mouth with a _pop_ and slid his fingers down the crease between his cheeks and pushed both fingers in tentatively. Yamamoto moaned, low and husky against his lips and Hayato closed his mouth over them once more.

Yamamoto was hot and tight inside and Hayato pushed his fingers in further, scissoring and stroking in attempts to stretch him. He took his other hand of their cocks and grabbed on to Yamamoto's hair, tugging his head back so the he could drag his tongue along the sweat salty skin.

"F-fuck... fuck me, 'Dera," Yamamoto whined, digging his fingernails into Hayato's scalp and backing into his fingers for emphasis.

"You're... you're not ready yet," Hayato whispered, nipping on his ear.

"I can take it," Yamamoto panted. "I want you."

Hayato read the certainty in his eyes, the same determination still there and Hayato withdrew his fingers, making Yamamoto whimper. Without tearing his gaze away, Hayato brought his hand up and spit into it, bringing it back down to coat Yamamoto's entrance with his saliva. Closing the distance between their mouths, Hayato inserted two fingers at first and Yamamoto broke away, whispering pleas in Hayato's ear. When he inserted his third finger, Yamamoto bit down in his collar bone with a cry and Hayato paused.

"Don't stop... Gokudera I _need _you."

Hayato continued fingering Yamamoto and the sensation of their cocks rubbing together and Yamamoto's hazel eyes locked on to his, Hayato felt so close to coming.

"C-condom," he breathed, attempting to shift on the bed.

"No," Yamamoto whispered lustfully. "Just fuck me, I want to feel _you._"

Hayato uttered a predatory growl and dug his fingers deeper, making Yamamoto whimper. "Idiot."

When he couldn't take the overwhelming heat and pressure in his groin any longer, Hayato withdrew his fingers and gripped Yamamoto's hips, lifting his pelvis and lining him up on his cock.

"Hey... kiss me," he said and when Yamamoto did, Hayato eased him down on the tip of his cock, hissing from the somewhat painful tightness. Yamamoto groaned in his mouth and Hayato tried his best to distract him from the pain by drawing out his tongue and sucking it. Impatiently, Yamamoto pushed down hard and bit Hayato's lip, letting out a small whimper. He waited a minute to give Yamamoto time to adjust, kissing him and stroking his cock slowly. When Yamamoto was ready, he grabbed hold of Hayato's shoulder and squeezed, rolling his hips.

Hayato took that as an invitation and began thrusting up into Yamamoto slowly, their lips still messily locked. Yamamoto braced himself off Hayato's chest and moved up and down on his cock, timing his seating with every thrust of Hayato's. He threw his head back and moaned and Hayato drank in the brawny, tanned body that rode him; watched as the curves of muscles in his arms and abdomen move as he flexed with every thrust. He mapped the lines and knots of muscle in Yamamoto's thighs with every push off his cock. He was so warm and tight, the heat that surrounded his bare cock was a feeling that he's never experienced and it felt so fucking _good_. Hayato's imagines its not just the feeling of searing friction or the tight ringed muscle clenching his cock but rather it's who he's fucking that makes it feel so amazing. These past few days were turning out be eventful days of many firsts for Hayato, breaking so many of his rules all for this one person he could slowly feel himself becoming addicted to.

"Fuck... Yamamoto. So good."

"M-more, Gokudera."

Hayato has always been with his one night stands from behind because it was the most impersonal position and he didn't have to look at their faces. Yet here this man was in all his sun kissed, sinewy glory riding him while moaning to the ceiling. He's never kissed anyone, never slept with anyone more than once, he's never looked into the eyes of the person he was fucking and doing all these things with Yamamoto felt good. Felt really, _really _good.

He felt the build up, the pressure in his cock and the heat coiling in his belly. He slid his hands up Yamamoto's back and brought him down to his chest. He clutched the tuft of hair at the nape of Yamamoto's neck with one hand while the other pushed his pelvis down on to his cock. He thrust upwards, hilting and hitting the bundle of nerves that made Yamamoto scream as his own orgasm ripped through him.

"F-fuck... Yamamoto,' he panted, arching his back and digging his blunt fingernails into Yamamoto's skin.

"_Ah-aah_, 'Dera!" Yamamoto shouted as he clenched hard around Hayato's leaking cock, his warm come spraying his stomach and chest. He shuddered and collapsed on Hayato, boneless.

Hayato struggled to catch his breath and he dragged a hand through Yamamoto's sweaty hair. After a few minutes of heavy breathing, Yamamoto finally eased off, wincing and rolled over beside Hayato.

"I think I might have popped a few more stitches," he said with a laugh, pulling the bed sheets over them.

Hayato turned his head and scoffed. "Idiot, serves you right for getting too excited."

Yamamoto grinned. "Mm, maybe... but I don't hear Gokudera complaining."

Hayato's cheeks flared. "Che, shut up you bastard."

Yamamoto laughed, leaned in and kissed Hayato's nose. Instinctively Hayato jerked back and Yamamoto frowned. "Sorry," he said sheepishly.

Hayato sighed. Every time he's kissed Yamamoto, it's been in the heat of the moment. Hayato can convince himself that he kisses him out of lust, because it turns him on more and because it makes the sex better. But when they're not about to have sex or having sex, he can't find a way to justify such romantic gestures. It makes him uncomfortable and angry.

He had already broke his cardinal rules of not sleeping with someone he knew and more than once. He had to put a stop to it before any more feelings got involved and feeling got hurt. Because Yamamoto was the lead journalist for this case it would make for an awkward and messy work relationship. Even if he wasn't sure. if that was what he really wanted.

"You know," he began, already feeling a little regret. This probably wasn't going to end well. "I'm not one to repeat yesterday's mistakes."

Yamamoto cocked his head to the side, his hazel eyes readied with confusion. "Is... is that what you think of this? A mistake?"

Seeing Yamamoto's distraught expression struck a painful chord in his heart. Hayato sighed frustratingly. "I... I don't know anymore, fuck. I -"

"Gokudera... I really, really like you but... but if this is too much, I understand."  
Yamamoto moved out from underneath the blankets and Hayato felt a cold shock to his heated flesh. "And if it means anything to you, I don't think that this was a mistake, even if it doesn't go any further than this," he said, turning and smiling wide.

Hayato watched as Yamamoto gathered his pants and boxers and started getting dressed. He felt guilty, yes and he definitely didn't want to stop whatever it was between them; the sex was too amazing and Hayato had already gone way beyond the point he should have, going so far as to let this man kiss him and he actually enjoying it. Unfortunately, he just couldn't bring himself to say the words he wanted to say and when he thought hard about it, he really didn't know what it was that he did want to say. So he watched speechlessly as Yamamoto took one last longing look at him, sharp pangs in his heart making it hurt. He wanted to scream because he was angry and annoyed and confused.

"Yamamoto... wait." Fuck, he was going to kick himself for this later. Probably after he drank about six bottles of whiskey and smoked about ten packs of cigarettes.

Yamamoto turned, his hand resting on the door knob. "Yeah, Gokudera?"

"Come back to bed. I'm not finished with you yet."

* * *

Some hours later, long after all of Hayato's stamina had been sapped, he left his bedroom to shower despite wanting to curl in that brawny body and sleep. Yamamoto, finally satiated, was sleeping soundly sprawled out in the middle of his bed, lucky bastard. He had originally opted for them to shower together but Hayato knew if that happened, he'd never be able to leave the house.

He passed the living room where Bianchi sat flipping through a magazine, drinking something from a mug. Her hair was pulled back in a ponytail and Hayato could see he was wearing _his _clothes. Which made him think she'd really been in his room. The thought made him shudder again.

"Busy morning?" she remarked amusingly without looking up.

"Fuck off, Bianchi."

"I'm really disappointed Hayato. The least you could have done was let me watch."

"Go to hell, psycho."

* * *

By the time Hayato had left the house he still hadn't heard from Ryohei. He had tried calling but he never answered. It was around three in the afternoon when he got to the precinct and he didn't see Ryohei's car in the parking lot.

Hayato's stomach growled as he exited his car and he cursed for not grabbing a bento or something to snack on before he got here. He couldn't remember the last time he ate. Yamamoto had offered to make him breakfast at some point and Hayato commented that was something lovers did and for now, they were nothing but two guys fucking because the sex was too good to pass up. Yamamoto had compared it to a friends with benefits relationship to which Hayato reminded him they weren't friends.

He used his aviator sunglasses to push the hair out of his face when he walked into the station, nodding at Tetsuga Yato, the cop at the admissions desk. He was one of the older officers here and one of the few people that actually liked Hayato and vice versa.

"Yo, Tetsu. What's been going on? Busy day?" Hayato asked, handing in his badge.

"Nah, not really. Been kinda slow lately. Just that Headless Samurai keepin' us busy." He took Hayato's badge and typed the information on the keyboard, glancing sideways at Hayato. "Did you see the news this morning?"

Hayato raised an inquisitive brow. "No?"

"News revealed a composite sketch of a suspect. Said the Gazette was given this sketch by a trusted source but it looks like a police sketch, ya know?"

"What the _f__uck_?" Hayato could feel rage bubbling in his blood. "There... there hasn't been any witnesses or suspects. How did they get their hands on a _sketch_?"

Tetsuga shrugged. "Boss is real pissed. That fuckin' bureau agent too, he came prancin' in here like a fuckin' fairy all high and mighty. He's worse than that Hibari jackoff."

Hayato crossed his arms over his chest and huffed. "I leave for a few hours and come back to a shit load of shit. I don't know what's going on but I need to see the Tenth. Is he in?"

Tetsuga handed Hayato his badge. "Weapons check," he said and Hayato handed him his gun. "Yeah, boss should be upstairs with that pineapple fairy."

Hayato couldn't help but laugh at the similar nickname for Rokudo Mukuro. He watched as Tetsuga checked his ammunition and inspected it for recent discharge. He handed Hayato back his gun.

"I admire your piece every time I see it, Gokudera. You're lucky boss let you have this as a registered weapon. It's fuckin' beautiful."

"Heh, thanks."

"They use guns like these back in Italy?" Tetsuga asked.

Hayato holstered his AutoMag. "No, usually standard issue is the Beretta. Kinda like the .40 Smith & Wesson and the glock .22 for the Americans."

"Yer gun is American too, right?"

Hayato nodded. While he was enjoying this conversation about guns with someone he didn't hate, he really needed to address Tsuna about the events taken place in his absence.

"Yeah. Hey look, Tetsu... I've gotta go talk to the Tenth. I'll buy you a coffee sometime and we'll talk guns alright?"

"Oh sure, yeah whatever. See ya later, Gokudera."

Hayato saluted him informally and ran up the stairs to the second floor. He searched Tsuna's office to find it empty when he heard the high pitched shrill that made his skin stand on end. The voice of Miura Haru. Hayato stormed down the hall to the briefing room and burst through the door, unable to control his rage, instantly flying off the handle. He felt unexplainably protective of Yamamoto and his existing hatred for her made the urge to rip her throat out almost irresistible.

"Hahi!"

"Gokudera-kun!"

"Oya, it's the bakufu dog, kufufu."

"You! You stupid fucking woman!" Hayato yelled over the voices, ignoring Mukuro's comment and Tsuna's surprised face.

He moved towards where Haru sat at the conference table and pointed a long slender finger in her face. Her eyes were wide and she tried to lean back into the chair to avoid his wrath but couldn't sink back any further.

"Do you have any idea what could have happened?!" he shouted.

"Hahi! Gokudera-san! I don't understand- "  
"Gokudera-kun, what's wrong?" Tsuna asked, stepping in between Haru and him.

He straightened out and faced his boss. "This... this stupid _woman,_ she-"

"Oya, is this about the sketch your department leaked to the papers, Gokudera Hayato?" Mukuro asked slyly, head resting on a curled fist.

"Gokudera-kun, Yamamoto Takeshi is missing, that's why Haru is here," Tsuna said, standing from his chair and leaning over the table.

"He's not missing," Gokudera spat. "Though he could have ended up dead because of this bitch!"

Tsuna looked confused and Haru looked guiltily from the two men while Mukuro sat in a leather chair, legs crossed and hands pushed together at their fingertips, chuckling.

"You know, don't you... what could have happened to him?" Hayato asked, his voice coming out more shaky and revealing than it should have.

"What's going on?" Tsuna demanded.

"Why don't you tell him?" Hayato snarled.

"Ha... Haru asked Yamamoto-san to interview the _Hakai Dīrā _in Sakura Town last night."

"You... you did _what_?" asked Tsuna in raw disbelief.

"Ha-Haru's sorry, we needed the article for this morning's i-issue."

"Haru, what were you thinking? That's really dangerous!" Tsuna said, eyes wide.

"Kufufu, this city never ceases to amaze me, hm Tsunayoshi?"

"Shut up, pineapple snake," Gokudera spat.  
"I'd watch my manners if I were you, Gokudera Hayato," Mukuro said, smirking.

"Have you seen Yamamoto, Gokudera-kun?"

"Yes, Tenth. He's doing fine. Minor cuts and bruises... and a shallow S.W. to the abdomen," Hayato said, glaring at Haru.

Her eyes went wide and she covered her mouth to stifle her gasp. "Hahi! Haru never meant-"

"Oh of course you did, you selfish woman! What did you-"

"How do you know this information, Gokudera-kun? Where is Yamamoto now?" Tsuna asked, sitting down again, possibly hoping that this might turn into a normal conversation.

Hayato couldn't very much tell Tsuna that he had been in Sakura Town late last night alone too and he _definitely _couldn't tell his boss that Yamamoto Takeshi was at his house, sated and tangled in his bed sheets. He might have, had the other two swine not been in the room.

"I... I have my sources," Hayato lied, guilt making his heart feel heavy. This was the one person he didn't want to have to lie to. "And at home, presumably."

"Oya... are you sure about that, Gokudera-_kun_?"

Hayato shot a glare towards Mukuro, hot enough to melt metal. _What the f__uck is talking about?_

"You must excuse Haru, Tsuna-san. Haru should call Yamamoto-san and make sure he's okay."

"Like you care, inconsiderate wench."

"Gokudera-san!"

"Gokudera-kun! Mukuro, what are you talking about?!" Tsuna asked frustratingly, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Kufufu, I have eyes all over the city. Why don't you ask your bakufu dog what he was doing in Sakura Town last night?"

Hayato froze. Anxiety rose from the pit of his stomach and ran through his blood, turning it cold. What the fuck was this pineapple bastard talking about?

"Huh? Is this true, Gokudera-kun?" Tsuna asked, raising from his seat once more.

"Y-yes, Tenth... I... I went to speak to the _Hakai _myself to see if I could arrange a meeting with their boss."

"_Alone_?"

Haru snuck out of the room while Tsuna's eyes were wide and full of concern and Mukuro chuckled at the issues he had instigated.

"Yes... I went alone. I'm alright, I put the word out there and found Yamamoto in the process. If I hadn't been there, he most likely would have died." Hayato fidgeted nervously but behind that was his boiling anger. How dare this pineapple fucker invade his privacy. He was being followed and he didn't even know it. Further thought led to perhaps though he wasn't being followed. If his theory was right, Mukuro had connections in Sakura Town. Since the people down there never open their mouths without a price, Hayato believed Mukuro had to be doing them a special kind of service that only bureau agent could provide.

Tsuna sighed exasperately. "As could have you, Gokudera-kun! When are you going to stop being so reckless? You know, you aren't just an officer that works for me, you're also my friend! Don't you ever stop to think how I'd feel if something were to happen to you?"

"T-Tenth, I'm sorry. I-"

"Kufufu, quite the lovers quarrel." Mukuro rose from his seat and walked around the table, and sat on the surface once he found a good view.

"Shut up, Mukuro!" they both yelled at the sly agent in unison.

"Oya, no need to get upset," he said, admiring the rings he had over a black gloved hand. A eerie grin spread across his face. "Although Tsunayoshi, you should know you're star detective has been sleeping with the reporter, Yamamoto Takeshi."

A loud, gutteral growl erupted from Hayato's throat as he lunged forward across the conference table, tackling Mukuro on to the ground. Mukuro's arms shot up and grabbed Hayato's wrists. He laughed while Hayato sputtered and wriggled, finally getting his right hand free.

"Gokudera!" Tsuna shouted in surprise.

"You fucking bastard, stupid pineapple _fuck!_" Hayato's fist connected with Mukuro's jaw and as he was about to lay the second, Tsuna wrapped his arms around Hayato's chest and dragged him off Mukuro. He thrashed and shouted obscenities and he couldn't think straight. Right now all he was seeing was red, right now he was wanting to kill this bastard.

"Kahahaha! Sawada Tsunayoshi, what an amusing department you have!" Mukuro laughed, sitting up and rubbing his jaw. His blue hair had been flattened in the struggle and his right eye glared red.

"What is going on?!" Tsuna demanded, the strain in his voice making Hayato stiffen.

Hayato felt Tsuna's arms leave him and he panted heavily, the anger and rage threatening to explode through his ribs. "You bastard... You're working with the _Hakai,_ aren't you?"

Mukuro stood, straightening out his long black trench coat and running a hand through his monochromatic hair. "Kufufu, don't be ridiculous -"

"You two... I asked what the hell is going on!" Tsuna shouted and Hayato froze. He rarely ever heard Tsuna use that tone of voice and he had never directed it towards him. "Gokudera, is this true? A-are you... in a relationship with Yamamoto Takeshi?"

"T-Tenth... N-no, I'm not in a relationship with the reporter. I-"

"Oyaoya, lying to your boss... guess you're not the loyal bakufu dog everyone -"

"Mukuro, enough! I don't know how you came about your information but if Gokudera is telling the truth about this, I believe him! I trust-"

"Tenth..." Gokudera sighed. "I... I have been with him in _that_ way." He felt his face get hot and he wanted nothing more than to crawl into a hole and just die, right here. He could feel the hot burn of Mukuro's heterochromatic eyes boring holes into his back and the scrutinizing gaze of his boss. "B-but there isn't anything going on, it was just a mistake-"

Tsuna cleared his throat. "Then I have no choice... Gokudera, you need to recuse yourself from this case."

Hayato looked up at his boss, eyes blown wide. "Wh-what? But, Tenth!"

"This is unacceptable, Gokudera. Your behaviour has been outrageous since the beginning of this case and it's gotten far worse! You don't think I know about you abusing the crime scenes with your lack of respect or showing up at work reeking of alcohol? And now, going into Sakura Town and challenging the _Hakai _boss... having intimate relations with the lead reporter on this case! Gokudera, what were you thinking?!"

Mukuro chuckled and sat back down in one of the leather chairs, crossing his legs.  
Tsuna glared at him. "And you! You've made a mockery of my department and their officers, Rokudo Mukuro. I understand -"

"Oya, Sawada Tsunayoshi... don't misunderstand. _I_ haven't done anything. Your officers have done a fine job of that mockery themselves. And as per my seniority in this case, I demand that Gokudera Hayato be removed from all aspects of this case before we have more than just a conflict of interest on our hands."

"You... you can't do that, Tenth! I'm so _close_ to figuring this out!" Hayato trembled with anger and disappointment.

"Actually,_ I _can," Mukuro remarked with a sly curl of his lips. "I'm only trying to be respectful and not step on any toes. You really don't have a choice in the matter."

Hayato looked from Mukuro to Tsuna, who sadly shook his head.

"He's right, Gokudera-kun. And after the leak of false information to the press-"

Hayato ran a frantic hand through his hair. "Tsuna, honestly! That wasn't me!" He rarely ever used Tsuna's real name. He had hoped it would help Tsuna understand how serious he was.

"Kufufu, as if we'd believe anything you'd have to say now, Gokudera Hayato." Mukuro rested his chin in the palm of his hand, looking like he was enjoying this way too much.

"As much as I'd like to disagree, Mukuro is right. I can't trust you right now, Gokudera-kun. You've become a liability and your relationship to Yamamoto Takeshi - regardless if it's ongoing - has become a conflict of interest. Anything you learn about the case can be possibly leaked to the public and I can't take that chance. I'm sorry, Gokudera-kun, but you brought this on yourself."

"Oya, I want Hibari Kyoya. I've heard great things about him. He seems... quite fascinating. You should have him take over," Mukuro mused wistfully.

"Listen here, you cock sucker. This is _my _case, _my _hard work-"

"Which is exactly why you're not able to continue. We don't need you telling your reporter boyfriend all the details-"

"He's not my fucking _boyfriend!_ Say anything like that again and I swear I will fucking put a bullet in your pineapple fairy skull!"

"Oya, _I'm _the fairy? You've got some nerve. Shall I take your badge too, for uttering death threats against your superior?"

"Enough! This is enough! Hibari is the head if the crime lab, not a detective. He can't -"

"It's fine," Mukuro said waving a hand. "Sasagawa Ryohei can take over with the assistance from Hibari Kyoya. Hand over your case files to them. You're excused, Gokudera Hayato. Anything we have to say about the case from here on out is none of your concern." He shooed Hayato with his ring adorned hand.

Hayato scowled. "This... This is all your fault! You're framing me, you fucker! I know you want me off this case."

"No, Gokudera-kun... This is _your _fault. No one else can be responsible for your actions but you."

"He's right, Gokudera-_kun. _Who knows what you've been saying to that reporter? And then going off on your own investigation... You aren't following protocol at all. It's best you leave this case to the professionals, the grown ups. Isn't that right, Sawada Tsunayoshi? Kufufu!" He grinned and winked at Tsuna.

Hayato couldn't take the greasiness of this sly bastard anymore. The malicious intent was exuding off him and the Tenth was too naïve to see what his true intentions were. He clenched his fists and snapped.

"Ah, this is fucking bullshit! He's only fucking doing this because he wants to get into your pants, Tenth!"

Instantly, Hayato clapped a hand over his mouth. He witnessed Tsuna's face stain with a dark vermilion and his eyes went wide.

"Hm, this just got interesting, kufufu."

Hayato became a stuttering and sputtering mess. "O-oh shit. Tenth, I am... I am so, so sorry! I-I didn't mean to say that, it's just that - I see the way he looks - and fuck, I've made a mistake! Fuck, I've made many mistakes but it's nothing more than just that! It won't happen again, I won't ever say anything like that again! You're personal life is none of my business, you can-"

"Go home, Gokudera. If there's something we need from you, we'll call you." Tsuna said coldly. His eyes were downcast and his mouth was wrought into a tight frown.

A whirlwind of emotions stormed his heart and the only ones he could decipher best was anger and hurt. He felt so stupid for what he had said, felt stupid for what he had done... He was a fuck up, he always has been. Nothing he does is right. He's selfish and insecure and he doesn't care who he hurts.

_Go away, Luciano. You're father is busy. He doesn't have time for a bastard like you._

_Luciano, you're nothing but a pest! A disappointment to the mafia, to your father!_

_Luciano, I can't stand look at your face. You remind me of all the failures in my life._

_Hah! Hurricane Hayato, what a joke! You're a nothing, kid! A no good half breed!_

_A wop with a Jap name, what a freak! Just who're tryin' ta'be? You'll never be accepted here, you're a disgrace to the mafia! _

Everyone in his life - his step mother, his father, the mafia families he tried to join and work for - was always telling him he wasn't good enough. To just leave and never come back. He's heard it from everyone and now from the one person he'd never thought would say it.

"I... I'm sorry, Tenth... I won't be a disgrace to you or the department anymore," Hayato muttered, defeated. He left the room without another word and another look back.

On the way to his car he received a phone call from Ryohei who hadn't heard the news yet. Any of it.

"_I think my guy is ready to talk to the extreme. Wants us to meet him at his apartment on the outskirts of Sakura Town. You comin'?_"

Hayato felt conflicted and he really didn't want to embarrass Tsuna anymore than he had. But right now, he couldn't pass up on another lead. He couldn't let _another _bastard get away with murder. This was his city too, and maybe he colds end it's misery himself but he could damned well try. He didn't operate like the yakuza, or the corrupt politicians and law enforcement. He did things by the law, despite his want to take maters into his own hands. Hayato_ needed _this, to put back the order in this chaotic city; to put back the order in his chaotic life. He _was _going to catch this bastard, even if it meant going against his boss.

"Yeah. I'll be there in ten minutes." He didn't care if people were watching him. They'd have to catch up to him first, right? And he'd be damned if he was going to let some fucking bitch prevent him from doing his job.

Fuck Rokudo Mukuro and that pineapple he rode in on.

* * *

**Author's Note : **

How's everyone enjoying the story so fsr? R&R my lovlies! xox


	12. Book I : My Saint : Chapter XII

_**Chapter XII**_

* * *

"This is fucked up, Lawn Head. I thought you just talked to him?"

Ryohei sighed. "Yeah... That was like an extreme half hour ago. At least."

Hayato sighed. "Enough time to do it though."

"You think he did it on purpose?"

"Che, of course not. He was just looking to get high. Fuckin' junkie."

"What a waste to the extreme," Ryohei said dejectedly.

"Yeah... _looks_ like an overdose." Hayato took a pen light out of his jeans pocket and carefully stepped over the body of Ryohei's now dead informant. "You have any gloves?"

Ryohei pulled a pair of latex gloves out of a small pouch on his utility belt and handed them to Hayato. "You need to carry this shit with you more often to the extreme, Octopus Head. You're like that high school kid who never has paper or pencils to do their work."

Hayato scoffed and took the gloves. "But I am still a genius." He put a glove on and leaned over the body, prying one of the eyelids of the informant's open and inspecting the eyeball with his pen light. He further inspected the informant's lips and fingernails.

"Yup, didn't think so."

"Huh?"

"There's no bluish tint to the lips or nailbeds... pupils are fixed and dilated -"

"Well, duh. He's dead."

"Shut up, asshole. I was getting to my point."

"Not fast enough for my liking."

Hayato stood and sighed. "Look, I know your feeble mind can't handle explanations but at least try on this one, alright asshole?"

"Wow...what a pretentious _dick_... to the extreme," Ryohei said with a smirk.

Hayato nudged him in the ribs. "Oh ho, a word that has more than two syllables. Impressive."

"Dude, just shut up already and tell me about the dead guy," Ryohei said with a laugh. He began walking around the informant's apartment.

"He didn't die from a heroin overdose. At least not one that's apparent," Hayato said, crouching down again to inspect the body.

"How so? Dude's got a needle sticking out of his arm to the extreme and a spoon in his hand. If that doesn't paint you a picture -"

"Exactly. It paints us an obvious picture. Too obvious."

Ryohei turned and raised a skeptical brow. "I know that look on your face. Are you thinking someone _killed_ him?"

Hayato stood and looked around. "I don't know yet. My gut tells me yes, but there isn't enough evidence for proof. For all I know he could have died from an air embolism."

"An air what?"

Hayato rolled his eyes. "A very large air bubble lodged into the blood stream. Could have been caused by too much air in the needle when he injected the heroin."

Ryohei screwed up his face. "The guy's a regular junkie to the extreme. You'd think he'd know how to tap out a few bubbles."

"Exactly. That's why I think it's unlikely that he did this himself. We have to wait for Kusakabe to do the autopsy before I can be sure."

"Well, let's say your extreme theory is right-"

"Have I ever been wrong?"

Ryohei rolled his eyes. "I'm not strokin' your already extreme ego, asshole."

Hayato laughed. "Wasn't asking you to, just stating the obvious."

Ryohei rolled his eyes again. "_Anyways,_ as I was saying... if you're right, there's no visible evidence left here by the killer. No forced entry, no signs of a struggle. It's a pretty extreme stretch, don't you think?"

Hayato used the light to search around the informant's slumped body propped up against a whitewashed wall stained yellowish brown from years of exposure to nicotine. He saw a lighter and the burnt spoon used to heat the heroin, an ashtray and cigarettes but nothing else that caught his eye. Except for the position of the body.  
"Hey, don't you think it's weird that he chose to sit here between this shitty makeshift kitchen and his bed to get high?" Hayato asked inquisitively.

Ryohei was currently inspecting the contents of the small bar refrigerator in the corner of the room next to a hot plate and a microwave that was at least ten years old, also stained a yellowish brown. He stood and faced Hayato.

"Nothin' but mustard packets in here... extreme," he muttered with a sigh. "Uh. I dunno, should it be weird?"

Hayato stood and shrugged, rolling his head and shoulders. "Not sure. I think it's odd, why wouldn't he get high on the futon? He'd most likely pass out afterwards so you'd think he'd want to be comfortable -"

"Hey... is that a hickey on your neck?"

Hayato snapped his head in Ryohei's direction who had his own pen light focused in on his neck. His cheeks burned. There was a fucking disgusting kiss mark on his neck left there by that fucking idiot, _what the fuck. _Had the Tenth seen it? Could everyone see it? "Wh-what? J-just where do you think you're pointing that thing, you bastard?"

Ryohei walked over to Hayato and leaned in, jabbing his finger into the flesh at the base of his neck beside his collarbone. "_Here_."

Hayato swatted his hand away and took a step back. That _fucker,_ stupid reporter idiot. "Don't touch me, asshole. It's not a hickey, I burned myself with a cigarette," he lied, turning away from Ryohei praying his face would stop burning.

Ryohei laughed. "Haha, yeah right! Octopus Head is gettin' some extreme action! Wow, who knew someone would have the patience to deal with your PMS mood swings... Out of all people and I'm still single... that's extremely depressing."

"I-I'm not dating anyone, what the fuck! It's not surprising you're still single, asshole. M-mind your own fucking business and get back to work!"

"I resent that to the extreme dude. I live my life to the extreme, who wouldn't want a piece of this?" Ryohei asked with a toothy grin and gesturing to his body.

Hayato may be gay and Ryohei may have an extreme good looking body but Hayato has absolutely no interest in the stupid boxing turf head that was extremely dense and annoying. He's never given it a thought. Hayato would never consider them friends, they never did anything outside of work except the occasional game of pool and a few beers together. And Hayato only went after Ryohei would nag him for at least a week prior to their outing. Ryohei was his partner and the Tenth trusted that they'd work well together so he put up with the turf top for Tsuna's sake. But never, _never _has Hayato found a single attractive quality in him.

"Che... I'm telling you _no one, _Lawn Head. Stop slacking and call Kusakabe. Tell him to notify the CSU and let them take over."

Ryohei scowled. "You're always so bitchy. I'd love to meet the chick that's brave enough to put up with your shit. I'd have to shake her hand. Or squeeze her ass. Haha, does she have a nice-"

He felt his face twitch with frustration. He reached out and fisted Ryohei's shirt and shook him. "Ugh, stupid Lawn Head! Shut up and do your job!"

Ryohei started laughing again. "You wanna go, one on one round for round? C'mon, let's do-"

"I swear to God-"

"Alright, alright. I'm dialing the fuckin' number."

Hayato let out an frustrated sigh and let go of Ryohei, supressing the urge to punch that stupid look off his face. He turned and began searching over the contents of the informant's apartment once more.

"I wouldn't have noticed it if you never had your shirt open to the extreme," Ryohei remarked smugly.

Hayato turned to glare at him but before he could say anything, Ryohei was talking to Kusakabe over the phone. He turned back towards the body and noticed the small bruise forming around the puncture wound. He inspected the arms, bare feet and hands of the corpse and saw the red and angry track marks left behind by the informant's filthy habit. Further down his left arm, the arm that he was using to inject the heroin into, were fresh, ragged lesions left behind by most likely a blunt needle from too many uses. There were a cluster of them closer to the wrist where it appeared the informant had used that spot quite frequently and recently, leading Hayato to believe that the spot was his common injection site because he knew he could it the vein there. Hayato inspected the puncture wound on the crook of the informant's elbow again and bit his lip. The puncture wound was tiny, there was no angry scratches or scarring around it. It was clean and precise. Something not seen on a junkie who doesn't have steady and patient hands and uses the same needle and spot to get high. He shined his light over the needle tip and from his angle it looked brand new.

Chewing his bottom lip and crouching in front of the body, Hayato worked the evidence into formulas in his brain. Every theory he had was plausible but could just as easily be proven improbable but Hayato trusted his gut. He always has and it's gotten him this far, even if the one time he faltered and fucked up he landed in bed with a hazardous yet alluring man and fucked up his career.

"Hey, Lawn Head... what did he say to you exactly? Was there any inclination that he had been found out, that he was being followed or anything?" he asked once he heard Ryohei was off the phone.

"Nah, he just said he had some new information on the killer. Said he talked to some people and got a description of the samurai guy, why?"

"Who did he talk to? Anyone he didn't know, anyone suspicious?" he asked, standing to face Ryohei again.

Ryohei gave him a long, confused look. "What's with this extreme paranoia? Know something I don't?"

Hayato knew at some point Ryohei would find out about him getting kicked off the case. And at some point he'd want to know why. Now just wasn't the time to delve into his personal life with his overly loud and annoying partner. Though Hayato liked to think ahead, the day's passing events have proven to confuse and frustrate him enough to leave his brain in a muddled mess of gray matter and he'd rather not have to constantly be one step ahead of something just for a minute. He'd keep his theories to himself until he was able to review the evidence so he could actually think properly.

"Nothing... I just wanted to make sure we covered all the bases." He took a look at the body. His gut was definitely telling him there was something more to this apparent overdose. Hayato just found it too convenient that he had a lead only to turn up dead. Pair that up with Mukuro's involvement with getting him kicked off this case, he was pretty damned certain there was more to it and it had nothing to do with paranoia.

Ryohei gave him another confused look and slipped his phone into his back pocket. "Okay then," he said awkwardly. He's been Hayato's partner for a while and he can tell the looks Hayato gets when he's thinking about something but he doesn't say anything because he also knows that Hayato is a hot head like he is and knows when to give him the space needed to think. Most of the time.

Though Ryohei was his partner and always had his back, Tsuna was his boss and he is as loyal to him as Hayato is. Was. Ryohei wouldn't let him near the case when he found out about what happened and Hayato didn't even want to think about his reaction when he did. He was just grateful that Ryohei didn't have the overwhelming compulsive need for answers like he did so that he was able to process all the information by himself. He's always worked best alone, he's always done everything alone. And if he could prove himself to the Tenth again; show him why he chose Hayato as his lead homicide detective and why he belonged there alongside his boss, helping him clear out the garbage of Namimori Middle, then maybe things would go back to normal.

Although now that his boss and probably over half the department knew about his personal life, he doubted anything would go back to normal.

"I'm gonna head back to the station and get started on the paper work and background check," Hayato said, clearing his throat and slipping the light into his jeans.

Ryohei shrugged. "Better you than me," he said nonchalantly. "I'll wait outside for the CSU, see you there when they've cleared the scene."

"Yeah... Don't forget to let Kusakabe know to do a full tox screen on the D.B."

"Yeah, I know man. Don't need to remind me of how to to my job, asshole," Ryohei said with a smirk.

"Whatever. Have fun dealing with Hibari," Hayato called, walking out of the apartment. He didn't hear if Ryohei had a retort.

When he got to his car he paused and worked the gears in his logical brain for a moment trying to separate feeling from fact. It was hard this time because he's never had feelings associated with this kind of thing before. He's never really had to break it off with someone... even of he didn't think there was a relationship to begin with; even if he didn't think Yamamoto deserved closure, let alone an explanation.

Still, he found himself searching for the number of Gazette, dialing it and asking the sugary voice that answered for Yamamoto Takeshi's extension. He knew he wouldn't answer and he knew that leaving the message would be cowardly and stupid, but it had to be done. Better to do it over the phone because he knew he wouldn't have the resolve to do it to his face. He'd definitely falter like he did this morning.

He felt like an idiot when the beep came and he paused for a few seconds before he said anything. But then remembering the conversation he had with his boss a few hours prior was all he needed to fuel his fire.

"Look... this isn't going to work out. I don't even like you, I don't know why the fuck it happened more than once but you weren't supposed to be anything more than just a fuck. I told you already I don't repeat yesterday's mistakes and I don't intend to, so stay the fuck away from me." His tone was angry smash harsh as he could get it to sound so that stupid idiot would understand.

He paused again, wondering if he should say something else; wondering if he was making the right decision.

Inwardly scoffing, he saved the message and hung up. Of _course _he was making the right decision, being a cop is something he's worked hard for, helping Tsuna follow is dream is what he's devoted to. He's told himself several times he owes Tsuna his life and the things he's done in the last few days have been nothing but selfish and reckless and his need for self destruction seems to be getting far worse. There was only one way to fix that, and that would be to take Yamamoto Takeshi - no, he's just the _reporter _now; the bastard baseball idiot. _You have to stop personalizing him, Hayato. It's where you went wrong in the first place_ - out of the equation.

He hung up and got into his car. With that he felt better already, already his head felt clearer. He didn't need to concern himself with muscular and tanned, hazel eyed distractions. What he needed was to catch the killer and get back into his boss's good graces.

* * *

Luckily for him, when he had returned to the station Tsuna nor Mukuro was there and it didn't seem like anyone else had heard anything about him yet. Although he was sure Ryohei and Hibari would know soon enough about his recuse.

It was nice having a name to search for this time, Hayato had been annoyed with the lack of evidence and identification from this case but even if he might get himself into a little more trouble, he was going back to Sakura Town to get more information after he finished here.

Hayato checked the computer, read the report of their dead informant junkie. He was a pusher as well as a user. Hayato found he had been charged several times for selling narcotics to minors and that he was currently on out bail for constructive manslaughter charge; causing the death of a teenage boy who had a fatal reaction to the substances in the heroin the information had cut it with. He later admitted to doing that because he had been using the supply he was supposed to be selling for personal use and wasn't making enough money to pay back the dealer.

This guy liked to pray on the weak, _kids_. What a sick bastard. Hayato was almost pleased that he was dead, died from a possible overdose. Hayato felt in some way, justice had been served. It was possible that he had been making deals by acting as an informant and keeping himself out of jail. He was never an actual police informant, just an old acquaintance of Ryohei's that Ryohei used sometimes for information on the activities of the lower thugs that ran around in Sakura Town. Regardless, he had managed to slip through the cracks and was out shooting heroin and still selling to kids.

After a few hours at the station, long into the late night, Hayato left and drove to the coroner's building where Kusakabe confirmed his suspicions. The informant had been murdered.

_"Now, Gokudera-san... I've been told not to let you know any details regarding the present case you've been working on and I don't intend to, but I will let you know this one detail. Your D.B. was injected with etorphine, that was the cause of death,"_ Kusakabe had told him.

_"Etorphine... wasn't that used to sedate all the other victims?"_

_"Yes, etorphine is fatal to humans and each one of the victims had the antidote, naxolone in their system. It had been administered to negate the effects of the etorphine, which reacts just as quickly as the naxolone."_

If that was the case that meant that the same person who had killed the others had killed Ryohei's informant. But how did he know? Unless... unless Ryohei had mentioned to Tsuna that he was going to see the informant and he told Mukuro about it, giving Mukuro time to warn the killer. But why was the _Hakai _killing off its own members? Perhaps then it was an uprising gang war? And Mukuro was working with the other gang of yakuza thugs instead of the _Hakai_. Still, if that was the case they'd have to be influential enough to have a federal agent working for them. And Hayato knew of one gang that worked under the _Hakai_, an affiliation gang by the name of But they were minor league, not big enough to take on the _Hakai _by themselves. However, with an agent like Mukuro backing them up, maybe they could. Hayato just needed to figure out what Mukuro would stand to gain from helping a lower level gang take over Sakura Town. Regardless of the endless theories Hayato worked over in his mind, he was certain Mukuro was dirty and involved _somehow._

He found himself driving into Sakura Town again when he finally decided to give his brain a break. He knew after last night's encounter it was a _really _bad idea to be here but Hayato is stubborn and reckless and will stop at nothing to get answers for the greater good. It's not that his life wasn't meaningful, he didn't think it was but that wasn't why he was here. He _needed _some kind of validation. He needed to work this case even though he was kicked off it because he didn't trust Mukuro's influence on his boss and maybe the other detectives he'd put on the case. It wasn't fair for him doubt Tsuna and the others but Hayato didn't trust _anyone, _not even his own sister.

He parked his car and walked down the street with his head hung low even though he knew his silver hair and pale skin were a dead give away of who he was. Still, no one spoke to him. No one cut off his path and he walked right up to the largest brothel and demanded someone get him Tomakazu Tosaru.

The men that guarded that place, heavily tattooed from head to toe laughed at his request until Hayato pulled out his gun and pointed it at one of them.

Something had kind of snapped in Hayato's mind on the drive to Sakura Town. He wasn't being rational, there wasn't a single logical thought that ran through his head in this moment. He was done with corruption, done with liars and cheaters and manipulators. He has had it with this sin city and all its slick and greasy crime syndicates and the men who thought they were above the law. And he's had it with fucked up family members who invade your space and take over your life. He's completely done dealing with feelings and emotions that he's never had before, he doesn't want to feel anymore. He didn't believe he loved Yamamoto Takeshi, but maybe he liked him a little more than usual and if he couldn't fuck who he wanted because of these assholes and he couldn't have the job busted his ass for then they could all go to fucking hell and he was surely going to be the one to send them there.

"Where do ya think yer pointin' that gun?" one of the thugs laughed.

Hayato's hair fell over his eyes and the only thing visible on his face was the eerie curl of lips on a man who has gone mad.

"Where does it look like I'm pointin' it, yakuza-san? Now, are you gonna get your boss or am I gonna have to let my gun get his attention?"

The other thug drew his gun and stepped to the side of Hayato, digging the muzzle of his gun into his temple. "We're not afraid to kill ya, bakufu dog."

"Hm, that may be... but you'd definitely die trying," Hayato said with arrogance.

The thug to his right dug the gun in deeper, breaking the skin across Hayato's temple. He felt a warm trickle of blood slide down his cheek but felt none of the pain. "It would take less than a second for me to pull the trigger and then it's over."

"Get me your boss. I have a proposition for him." Hayato quickly lowered his AutoMag and rammed it into the gut of the man with the gun against his head. He stumbled backwards and fell on his bottom. Hayato took that opportunity to squeeze off two rounds, one to each kneecap.

The sound of the gunshots echoed through the house and the women that were in the room screamed and fled. Hayato knew that this was going to draw more attention, more men coming with guns who wouldn't hesitate to shoot him...

The man let out a blood curdling scream and the other thug jumped up from his seat. He pointed his gun at Hayato. "Oi! What the fuck-"

Raising his gun and aiming for the thug opposite him, Hayato laughed. "I can do the same for you in no time flat but then you wouldn't be able to fetch me your boss. But I can put this guy out of his misery by lodging a bullet between his ugly eyes, right in the middle of that _awful_ unibrow." Hayato looked down at the man on the floor, cradled in a fetal position and crying. "Dude, seriously, you should wax that." Did he really just say something that damned turf head would say?

"P-put a bullet in him-"

"Did you hear that, unibrow-san? Where is your loyalty? That's just cruel."

The man in front of him started shaking and Hayato assumed it was probably because a crazy person was scarier than a sane person and which sane person, especially a police officer, would go around shooting people in the heart of Sakura Town?

_This guy,_ Hayato thought with a smile.

Just as he was about to pull the trigger and shoot the thug in front of him when a sharp pain ripped through his leg and an explosion rang through his ears. Dropping to on his knee, he realized he had been shot through the calf by the man on the ground and before the man could shoot him again, Hayato put a bullet through his heart. Unfortunately that consumed too much time because before he could take care of the man in front of him, another shot crackled through the brothel and struck Hayato in the chest and he thought for a second that of all days he had decided not to wear a Kevlar vest that today had to be the day. He really was a foolish idiot.

The impact rocketed him backwards but not before Hayato fired three consecutive shots, two hitting the other thug in his chest and shoulder and the other bullet lodged itself in the wall beside his head. Nevertheless, the man crumpled to the floor, lifeless.

The bullet to his chest he could tell was a through and through and wasn't fatal. The adrenaline coursing in his veins served as a numbing agent for the pain he should be feeling. Bleeding, Hayato struggled to get up and stand on both legs. It was difficult but manageable. He still hadn't managed to get the attention of Tomakazu but maybe that was for the best. He was a little pissed off right now and there was no telling how many men would be flocking to the brothel after they heard the gunshots. Hayato didn't know how many he was going to have to kill either.

He drew in a ragged breath and jammed a magazine into his AutoMag. Better to reload now before he faced the firing squad. He staggered out of the house through the front and to his surprise, there wasn't anyone there. Not a single soul. He wasn't sure if he should thank the gods or be weary of the eerie silence of the streets. He decided both were in order and he began making his way out of Sakura Town, not seeing another person for the painfully slow journey out of that pleasure district. He could sense something was wrong, he knew he should be pummeled with lead by now, there's no way he should be able to make it out of here alive. Something was definitely wrong here.

When he got to his car he was winded and covered in blood, the wound in his chest was bleeding profusely, and he had nothing on hand to stop the bleeding. He was beginning to feel light headed but that didn't stop him from raising a bloodied cigarette to his lips and lighting it. The wound in his right leg was most likely going to prevent him from driving or at least make it difficult. He had no choice but to inform dispatch that there had been shots fired, officer shot and two men dead in that brothel.

It didn't take long for beat cops and the ambulance to arrive, the CSU arriving shortly thereafter. And sure enough, Tsuna had been in one of the unmarked cars.

"Gokudera-kun!" he shouted as he exited the car. His brown eyes were wide and his face was pale, his hair was an unruly mess.

Hayato lit another cigarette only to have a paramedic pluck it from his lips and scowl at him.

"Hey, what were you thinking?" Tsuna asked frantically once he caught up to Hayato.

Hayato had no explanation and couldn't bear to meet his boss's eyes. Too ashamed. "I... wasn't."

"Apparently not! Are you mad? I-I don't even know what to say to you anymore! This is singe handedly the _stupidest _thing you have ever done, Hayato!" he shouted.

Hayato knew Tsuna was really pissed off because he rarely ever used his given name. And never called him stupid. "I know," he muttered, still not making eye contact.

"Sir? We need to get Gokudera-san to a hospital," the paramedic said.

Tsuna looked at the paramedic like he hadn't even realized he was standing there. "Right," he said. "Very well." He looked back at Hayato and he saw a dark and serious anger cloud his boss's normally soft features and for a minute he felt a little fear. And awe.

"We're not finished this conversation yet, Hayato. But give me your badge and your gun, you're suspended."

Hayato didn't argue or protest and he pulled his badge from his belt and handed it over to Tsuna, covered in blood. He handed his gun to a CSU tech who bagged it as evidence. He really liked that gun...

"Your return will be determined after the internal affairs investigation. Argh, honestly! What a mess you've created, Hayato. And... and you're lucky you're not dead! I'm so relieved you're not d-dead!" Tsuna's voice wavered on the last sentence and before he lost his composure he walked away, leaving Hayato to feel like the biggest and most idiotic asshole. _Well,_ Hayato thought, _you deserve it don't you, idiot? _He should have apologized, but really, what would that have done?

His body felt heavy as he lowered himself on to the stretcher and his head felt fuzzy and light. He heard the paramedics yelling to each other about his drop in blood pressure but they sounded really far away.

It's funny how you can tell when the colour drains from your face, Hayato could feel it leave. He knew logically that it was because he was losing a lot of blood and he had no idea when the last time he had eaten. But he imagined the cartoons he used to watch when he was younger where the red colour would leave the character's face comically and wondered if that was what he looked like to everyone else. It certainly felt that way.

Hayato's eyelids began to feel heavy and he was pretty sure he wasn't supposed to be losing consciousness, his wounds weren't that serious. At least he didn't think so.

The paramedics were telling him to stay awake but he didn't want to, he just wanted to rest for a little while. It's funny how your mind works when you're about to fall asleep. They often say you think about the things you want to dream about right before you drift off. The only thing Hayato was thinking about as he closed his eyes was the way he felt this morning; warm, and comfortable... at ease. He had been too preoccupied to realize it earlier, but waking up next to Yamamoto every morning might not be so bad after all.


	13. Book I : My Saint : Chapter XIII

**_Chapter XIII_**

* * *

_Copper. Copper and lead. Copper and lead and ammonia._

That's what Gokudera Hayato tasted at the back of his throat the next time he had opened his eyes. The next time he had been lucid enough to tell, that is.

He knew he was in a hospital. He knew he had surgery on his leg to remove the bullet and his chest needed to get patched up. He knew they gave him annoying drugs for pain that made him sleep no matter how hard he tried to fight it. He knows the doctor told him he was lucky, the bullet had nicked a small artery and that was the only damage but if it had been to the left half a millimetre more, it would have been fatal. He also told Hayato he'd need to take it easy and take some time off his feet because the bullet in his calf had torn through a lot of ligaments. The doctor gave him an incredulous look and said Hayato was lucky to be alive especially coming out of Sakura Town.

He vaguely remembers Tsuna coming to see him and lecturing him about how reckless and out of control he's been, more so than he usually is. He remembers Tsuna blaming himself for Hayato's behavior and he remembers Tsuna calling him stupid a lot. He also remembers apologizing for everything he's done and for making Tsuna worry. He had messed up his priorities and forgotten his place beside the Tenth. Tsuna understood, he always did when it came to Hayato. He told Hayato that he was older now, he had his own life to live and that was okay. He wasn't judgmental, he was happy for Hayato and he wanted him to do what made him happy. He said they weren't kids anymore and though he wanted to change the city; make it a better place and rebuild the infrastructure up from scratch, he'd rather have his friends be happy because that's why he became the captain. Tsuna wanted to provide a safe place for his family and friends to be, he wanted to protect them and see them happy. That's what really mattered to him.

Tsuna tells him the next day that the man Hayato shot had survived and had been admitted to the very same hospital. He says that there will be a uni outside his door at all times, to protect him just in case. Hayato knows that guy is in worse shape then he is, the department doesn't need to waste manpower on guarding him but he doesn't turn down his boss's gesture.

He remembers the bland Internal Affairs officer who came to take his statement and told him he'd come at a later date to check in with him. He wants to make sure the stories match, especially when Hayato is conscious enough to lie. Like he would anyways, he had already been suspended. What was the worst that could happen?

To his horror, the worst that did happen was he also remembers asking for Yamamoto at some point, likely drug induced. At least that's what he tells himself.

Hayato blinked, his vision milky and his eyes burned from the florescent lights above him. He made a groaning sound and attempted to lift a hand but his arm felt like it was encased by cement. His whole body felt heavy but his head felt light and fuzzy. The drugs must still be working themselves through his system and he was determined to tell the nurses this time to stop the administration immediately. He hated feeling like this.

He tried to work up enough saliva to coat his tongue but the inside of his mouth was pasty and the bit of saliva he did work up only made the texture inside his mouth feel like glue.

Mustering as much strength as he could, and using his iron will; the will to not be a burden and useless, he dragged himself into a painful somewhat sitting position on the hospital bed and used the button to raise the upper half of the bed to support him. His chest hurt but his leg ached. Agonizing tingles shot up his leg and he whimpered a little.

He blinked a few more times and his vision began to swim back into focus. He started to see clearer now, the images were just a little cloudy around the edges. He looked around the room and saw that he had been put in a small but private room and everything here was white and sterile, except for an ugly green leather armchair in the corner of room.

He looked on the panel on the side of his bed for a nurse call button and found one and just as he went to push it, the door to his room opened slowly with a soft knock.

"Gokudera?"

Gokudera froze. He knew the way his name sounded rolling off this person's tongue. He didn't want to admit it, but he quite liked the way he said it. Still, he really didn't want to see this annoying idiot right now, especially when he was defenseless and useless, prone and confined to a hospital bed. He couldn't even open his mouth and utter a sound above a harsh whisper.

Yamamoto walked through the door, eyebrows knit into a worried furrow and his dark hair an unruly and tousled mess. Hayato noticed the dark bruise under his left eye, hidden by a new pair of glasses. Same black frames, large and thick. He really did look quite fuckable with his hair all messy and those thick frames. As Hayato's eyes drifted down his face he noticed a smaller bandage covering that deep gash he had on his chin. Remembering the night he found Yamamoto bent and broken brought rage back to boil within his blood and give him an uneasy, sick feeling in his stomach. Or maybe _that_ was because of the medication. Still, Hayato couldn't help but feel angry when he noticed his full lips were bruised and busted too, twisted into an unnatural frown but when he saw Hayato awake, he grinned wide.

Hayato took one look at his annoying and blinding smile and groaned.

"You're awake!" he exclaimed.

"Breaking news," Hayato muttered. It was barely audible.

Yamamoto moved into the room, grabbing the back of the leather chair and scraping it across the tile floor. The sound echoed sharply in Hayato's ears and he grabbed them and hissed.

"Oh, haha. Sorry," he said cheerfully. He set the chair beside the bed and sat down, still grinning. Hayato really wanted to punch him in the face, wipe that stupid grin clean. There was nothing exciting and happy about this situation.

"Are you stupid?" Hayato asked, stretching his voice paper thin.

Yamamoto cocked his head quizzically. "I don't know... am I supposed to be?"

Hayato growled with frustration, albeit nothing like a lion's roar but more sounding like a meager kitten's mewl. He wanted to laugh at how shitty his voice made him sound.

"Didn't you get my message? I told you to stay the fuck away from me." A little better this time, raising a few notches to a hoarse whisper.

Yamamoto frowned. "Ah, that message. Yeah... I got it."

Hayato studied him. He really wanted to know how much of a brain this idiot had. "And? Which part of it didn't you understand?" A few octaves higher, raspy but nearly back to his normal tone.

"I... understood all of it. And I would've respected it except I was sent to cover the story of an officer being shot and when I learned it was you... I couldn't stay away," Yamamoto said with a frown.

"Che... you aren't getting any kind of story from me, bastard," he said coldly.

"No, it's not like that. I really wanted to just be here with Gokudera," Yamamoto said, grinning once again.

"Do you find something funny?"

"No?"

"Then why do you keep smiling like that? It's pissing me off," Hayato ground.

"Haha, sorry. It's just when I'm around Gokudera I... I get nervous and really happy." He tried to stop smiling but it only made his grin wider.

"Che. Idiot."

"Haha, maybe... But Gokudera, you lectured me a few days ago about going to Sakura Town by myself and then you went and did the same thing. How come?" He pushed his glasses back up on his nose and leaned forward.

"I don't have to answer to you, sports freak. I thought you weren't here for a story... you can go now. I meant it when I said I didn't want to see you again." Hayato looked away then but out of the corner if his eye he saw the hurt pass over Yamamoto's face.

"I-I just wanted to know why you do dangerous things like that. Well... I'm glad you're okay. Really had me scared there, haha. Anyways, I'll go now." Yamamoto's eyes crinkled with the forced smile and he habitually rubbed the back of his neck.

Hayato forced his jaw shut, clenching his teeth. Why, why did he have to put on that look? The one where he looks like a kicked puppy, sad and disoriented. He doesn't know why it struck a chord, his heartstrings no less, but Hayato believes it's because he doesn't believe in cruelty towards animals.

"Get me some water," he said and it came out thickly, exactly how his mouth felt.

It was such a simple command yet Yamamoto's face lit up like it was Christmas morning. "Okay!" And with that he hurried out of Hayato's room in search for water.

Hayato sighed and leaned back against the flat pillows that offered both actual comfort. He felt exhausted already and his eyes felt heavy; he let them drop. He was just going to close them for a little while because when that stupid idiot came back, he'd be too loud and noisy for him to rest anyways.

Except when he opened them it was an entirely different time of day and Hayato heard a familiar soft snore coming from his bedside. He blinked the fog of sleep away from his vision and groggily rolled his head to get a better look.

Yamamoto was asleep uncomfortably in the armchair. His mouth was parted slightly, his hands were folded over his chest and his long legs were stretched out underneath the bed. His glasses were off and Hayato saw that they were on the bedside table along with a pitcher of water and a styrofoam cup.

Idiot.

Hayato struggled to sit upright completely and reach for the cup, especially because the hand he was trying to use still had the IV hooked up to it. He growled and cursed and he hadn't meant to, but he woke Yamamoto up. He stirred and blinked and smiled softly at Hayato.

"Sorry," he said, his voice smooth but husky. "I didn't want to wake you." It was that kind of voice that shot a tingle of recollection up Hayato's spine.

"Water," he grunted.

"Oh!" Yamamoto reached over and poured the water in the cup and handed it to him, and he drank it greedily and asked for more. Yamamoto laughed and happily obliged and Hayato believed if he was an animal, he'd be a dog and his tail would be wagging excitedly.

He drank enough until it sloshed around in his stomach and he felt bloated. He couldn't quench his thirst and he knew that was because of the pain medication.

"How long have I been in here?" he asked.

"Four days? Your boss, Tsuna told me you slept for an entire day after your surgery."

Hayato scowled. "You talked to my boss?" He groaned inwardly at all the possible idiotic things this idiot could have said to Tsuna.

""Well yeah, I came here as soon as I heard and when I got here, Tsuna was just leaving. He's a really great guy, you know."

"Idiot. Of course I know."

"Haha, right. Anyways, we went down to the cafeteria and he told me about how you guys met and how long you're been friends for. I think it's amazing that Gokudera has someone like that to look out for him," Yamamoto said with a smile.

"The Tenth is an amazing man," Hayato remarked, leaning back against the bed. He winced when he moved his chest the wrong way. The must be a nasty bruise from the bullet impact near the gunshot wound on his chest. Yamamoto shot up instinctively and reached out to him and he startled Hayato with the sudden movement.

"Ha, sorry. Are you alright?"

"I'm fine," he muttered. "Where are my things? My... my rings? Where are they?" Hayato looked around the room a little frantically, hurting his neck and making himself dizzy in the process.

"Your boss said your personal effects were put in that locker," Yamamoto said, pointing to a thin white locker in the far corner of the room. It had been shielded by the privacy curtains before. "Except for your clothes. Say, do you want me to get you some?"

"Huh?" Hayato hadn't been paying attention, he just wanted to make sure that he had his rings. Well, his ruby one at least.

"Clothes... your clothes were bloody and taken in for evidence. Do you want me to get you some new ones?"

Hayato didn't like the idea of Yamamoto going back to his house, alone and with his crazy sister. Or with the situation of the people that had been following him. He did need clothes, however. He really wanted to shower.

"I suppose it can't be helped," Hayato muttered. "Just don't tell my sister. She's insane and she'll come here and make a scene."

"Haha, your sister must really love you! I think that's great. I don't have any siblings."

"It's not great. She's crazy and she doesn't love me. She just loves to annoy me. Bianchi is only here in Japan because she's bored at home, so she's come to bother me," Hayato said with a sigh.

"Haha, I see... I'll get them tomorrow, okay?"

"Fine. And don't be sticking around either. Don't you have a job to go to?"

"Haha, yeah I do! But Miura-san has been pretty nice lately, since that happened to me. She said a certain officer gave her a lot of grief because of it," Yamamoto said with a big smile.

"Che... It was because she's stupid. It could have happened to anyone. Don't think it's because I like you or anything," Hayato spat, feeling a little heat in his cheeks.

"Haha, okay. Anyways, I told her that I'll be back to work when I'm ready. And... I don't wanna go back until you're better."

Hayato sighed. "What a fuckin' sap. Why am I putting up with you? Go home or something. You're annoying, idiot."

Yamamoto laughed and sat on the edge of his bed, the mattress dipping slightly under his weight. He stopped and went silent for a second and then sighed. "I'm glad you're okay... Really glad," he said, a little dejected.

Some kind of switch went off in Hayato's mind and he realized that as much as he tried to fight it, his subconscious had been telling him he wanted Yamamoto all along. He's not sure of the feeling, Bianchi calls it love but Hayato doesn't know the definition of love. He doesn't know what it feels like to love someone and he doesn't remember how it feels to _be_ loved. Whatever it is it's a feeling that scares Hayato but it makes him feel good. It only scares him because it's the unknown and he is deathly afraid to let anyone in. He's not ready to yet but he's not ready to let go of Yamamoto either. He'll eventually be reinstated as an officer and Yamamoto can figure out something on his end, because Hayato enjoyed fucking him _a lot _and because as annoying as he was, Hayato really enjoyed his company. He'll never admit that though. Admitting things makes them more real, involves another person and leaves room for them to remember when he decides he's had enough and pushes the memories and feelings to the back of his mind and tries to forget.

Yamamoto was looking at him, his eyes earnest and pleading and Hayato could read his thoughts through them. He grabbed Yamamoto's arm and tugged. He didn't know what he was doing but he wasn't allowing himself to think about it. He was just going to let his body move.

"Come here," he said quietly, part of him still begging Yamamoto not to hear him, not to let his body do things his mind was dead set against.

Yamamoto looked down at his hand and back up at Hayato, surprised at the initiation of affection. "O-okay." He scooted up the bed and Hayato shifted to make room for the large body. Yamamoto laid down beside him and hooked an arm around his waist.

The bed was already narrow for Hayato's frame and now there was barely room to breathe, pressed up against Yamamoto while he lay on his back. He squirmed, cursing as he pulled the tender muscles in his wounded leg and cursing when Yamamoto started preening over him. Finally he made Yamamoto lay on his back so he could lay on his side, draping his wounded leg carefully across Yamamoto's legs and not caring how vulnerable and free he felt in the paper thin hospital gown he wore. He laid his head down on Yamamoto's chest and listened carefully and with interest at how fast and erratic his heart was beating.

Yamamoto kissed his forehead and stroked his hair and Hayato felt dazed. He was warm though by logic he should feel cold with the amount of skin he had exposed. His mind was concentrated on Yamamoto's heartbeat and his fingers were splayed over his chest, memorizing the thudding vibrations of his heart he felt through them. It felt strange, this kind of intimacy, but at the same time it felt right. He wasn't sure how or why, because all logic tells him is that he's going to get hurt and that he shouldn't trust anyone, it tells him that having these feelings (whatever they are) towards another man is wrong. But in this moment, Hayato is content and he hasn't felt happy in a very long time. He hasn't felt _this _way in his lifetime.

Yamamoto doesn't stop stroking his hair and his thumb traces circles against the small of his bare back. The relaxation this creates is better than the morphine he's been given. He doesn't need it, only Yamamoto's heat and the sound of his heart to lull him to sleep.

* * *

"I don't need you to take care of me, bastard!" Hayato hissed when Yamamoto tried to put an arm around him to help steady him on the crutches.

"The doctor said you needed someone to help you," Yamamoto protested as they stood waiting for the elevator. Today was the day Hayato was getting released from the hospital, told to take it easy with lots of bed rest.

Like hell he was going to lay around and just be lazy.

"Don't touch me so friendly like that, we're not friends."

"Haha," Yamamoto laughed. "I don't really get you sometimes."

"People will see and make assumptions," Hayato said through clenched teeth. The elevator doors opened with a chime and the he hobbled in on his crutches.

Yamamoto walked in through the doors and shrugged. "What does it matter what people think? I like you... and I think you like me," he said with a laugh, scratching his cheek.

"Che... as if," Hayato muttered, pressing the ground floor button.

"Haha, say what you want but actions speak louder than words, Gokudera."

"Do you _ever _stop talking?"

Yamamoto leaned in close and brushed his lips against Hayato's. "Are you gonna make me?" he said in a low, teasing voice.

A shudder rippled through Hayato. "I-idiot... people will see."

Yamamoto ran the tip of his tongue along the seam of his lips and pulled back, leaving a very heated and flustered Hayato. "So what?"

"Y-you're just too s-stupid for your own good! People will use that against me, against you... against the Tenth. Just don't do it, alright?"

"Okay, okay. Don't worry." Big toothy smile.

The two exited the elevator and made their way to the front of the hospital where Yamamoto's car was parked. Hayato struggled a little into the passenger side and Yamamoto did what he was told and didn't try to help.

The drive was surprisingly quiet until Hayato noticed Yamamoto had taken the wrong exit to his house.

"Oi... where are you taking me?"

Yamamoto looked over at him and flashed him a grin. "You said you couldn't eat the hospital food right? And the doctor told me you were suffering from malnutrition and dehydration when you were brought in, so I'm gonna take you to eat a good, home cooked meal."

Hayato snorted. "You're not my wife or my date. Just take me home."

"Mm, wife huh?" Yamamoto mused with a smirk.

"Shut up. Take me home."

"Your sister is there," Yamamoto reminded him. During the course of the last week and a half, Hayato has let Yamamoto in, little by little. He's told him a few small details, enough to paint a simple picture, even for someone as simple minded as he. Yamamoto hasn't told him much about his life except for his love of baseball and Hayato never listened much to that. He would ramble on and on and Hayato just tells him to shut up, baseball is boring and that he didn't want to know, nor _cared _to know any if his business anyways.

Hayato rolled his eyes and growled. "I don't have control over a single thing in my life right now. Kicked off the force, kicked out of my house and now kidnapped by a stupid baseball freak. No fucking say in anything, ugh! Do you know how fucking annoying that is?"

"Must be very annoying for a control freak like you," Yamamoto said teasingly. He dropped a hand to Hayato's thigh and slid it up slowly to his crotch.

"Oi... Where do you think you're touching?! Keep your hands on the wheel, you bastard," Hayato warned but he already felt heat pooling in his belly.

Yamamoto rubbed the bulge in his jeans and took a sidelong glance at him, smirking. "And doesn't one have to be taken against their will for it to be kidnapping? You say it like you don't like it."

It's been the first sexual contact he's had with Yamamoto since he came to the hospital last week. Being in the same room with him, annoying as he is, didn't stop Hayato's physical attraction towards him and containing himself in a public place with injuries was extremely difficult to do. Now, even this simple friction has got him feeling a euphoric sensation, hot and heavy spreading through his chest to his groin. He lifted his hips and bucked into Yamamoto's hand cupped over his dick. And then a raspy moan escaped his lips, mortifying him and jerking him back to reality.

"F-fuck you, bastard," Hayato stuttered and swatted his hand away. "J-ust drive." His lungs expanded and he drew in a breath. His face and ears were burning and he quickly turned his head to look out the window of the car.

"Haha, it calmed you down, didn't it?"

"If you call wanting to punch you calm, then I guess so," Hayato snapped.

"Mm, so cruel, Gokudera. I promise you'll like this place. Okay?"

"Whatever. Just drive, baseball idiot."

Yamamoto had driven into a more rural and suburban part of town, one Hayato didn't really recognize. They weren't driving for much longer when they pulled into a sushi restaurant's parking lot. The lot was small, but the building was large covering a nice wide area of land.

"What is this place?" Hayato asked.

Yamamoto ignored him and got out of the car and waited for Hayato to maneuver himself out of the passenger side. "It's a sushi place. We're gonna have dinner here. You like sushi?"

Hayato eyed him suspiciously. "Not particularly, but if you're paying then whatever... You said this was a sushi restaurant? It's _huge._ And in this part of town? I can't imagine it gets that much business," Hayato remarked, leaning on his crutches.

Yamamoto turned to face him, walking backwards. He smiled and pushed his glasses up his nose. "No... not much anymore. It's a ma and pa shop and attached to it is a dojo and on the other side it's a small house. The sushi here is great!"

Hayato smirked at the mental imagery of Yamamoto tripping over his feet and falling onto his backside. They had almost gotten to the door when Hayato asked, "How do you so much about this place? You come here often?"

Yamamoto stopped and smiled wide. "Yeah, I do. It's my dad's place."

Hayato froze. "Your dad? You brought me to meet your _dad? _You're fucking kidding, right? I know your brain is still trapped in your first year of middle school, but _really?_ Yamamoto-"

Yamamoto stepped up to Hayato and put his hands on his shoulders. "Relax, Gokudera. He's not here. Tuesdays he locks up the shop early and volunteers at the local veterinary hospital. It's just going to be us, and I'm going to cook for you." He smiled wide, his eyes crinkling at the corners.

Though Hayato had been feeling flustered and angry and a whole lot of other negative emotions just moments before, the weight of Yamamoto's large hands on his shoulders and bright smile seemed to calm him down. It was as if he possessed a certain tranquil quality to him that he was able to pass on to others. Hayato noticed he had that ability the first time he broke rule number three, never spend the night with someone you fuck. But when he laid down next to him that very first time, Hayato felt that his tranquility had washed away all his stresses in that instance and he found that whatever it was that made Yamamoto's presence so calming, he was already addicted to it.

"Che... you better not poison me," he muttered finally, giving in to Yamamoto _again_ which seemed to be a recent and regular occurrence.

"Haha, I'm not your sister. I'm not as great as my dad, but I've learned from the best. You won't be disappointed," Yamamoto said with a wink. He turned and used to he keys he held in his hand to open the shop.

They stepped inside and Yamamoto gave Hayato a short tour before tossing off his jacket and stepping behind the glass sneeze guard to the sushi bar. "What do you like?"

Hayato eased down on one of the stools and took a look at his options. He looked up at Yamamoto and scrunched up his nose. "I don't like raw fish so... surprise me."

Yamamoto laughed. "I can't believe you don't like raw fish!"

"Yeah well... there's just some things that should be eaten cooked. Well done. And fish is definitely one of them."

Yamamoto scratched his cheek. "Hm, I don't know whether to blame that on your sister or your Italian heritage," he said with a laugh.

"Idiot, don't say anything and just make the food," Hayato urged.

Yamamoto stilled and looked at Hayato, his hazel gaze soft and questioning almost. It made Hayato feel a little uncomfortable and insecure, like he was being put under a microscope and studied.

"What?" he asked harshly.

Yamamoto's lips curled into a slow smile. "Nothing... I was just thinking about how much I really like Gokudera."

Heat spread across his face to the tips of his ears and he grabbed his crutches and stood.

"Bastard," he hissed. "I'm going to look around. Call me when your done." He started walking towards the entrance to Yamamoto's father's home.

"Haha, okay! Make yourself comfortable, I'll bring you in a beer."

"Whatever," Hayato murmured as he opened the wooden screen doors. Why did Yamamoto have to continuously make things awkward by saying stuff like that? Why couldn't it be like_: Hey, I think you're hot. Let's fuck. _Or _I'm not into liking you, but I like your dick so let's fuck. _Or how about saying nothing at all and just get straight to the fucking?Something straightforward and to the point, without any of this feelings bullshit. Yamamoto just makes everything more complicated. Hayato doesn't really want to be liked or loved. He just wants to fuck, at least that's what he has to keep reminding himself of.

Yamamoto's main living room was very simple. A brown suede sofa, a nice flat screen television, a few plants here and there to add some colour. Very simple. Hayato noticed the trophy case almost instantly. Walking up to it he counted a total of eighteen trophies, all won by Yamamoto Takeshi in either baseball or kendo. Several of them were Kōshien Championship trophies for first place and MVP of the year. There was still so little he knew about Yamamoto and he wondered what happened for him to go from being such a star athlete to a reporter for the Gazette. Well, he started off as a sports columnist, so perhaps an injury prevented him from playing pro league. Hayato felt a tiny, nearly minuscule, bit of pride for being with one of Namimori's most memorable star baseball players.

Correction. Not being _with _him, just _fucking _him.

Moving over to the fireplace, he noticed a few picture frames on the mantel. Plain, wooden frames positioned both vertically and horizontally. Hayato set his crutches aside and picked them up, one by one. Most of them were of Yamamoto when he was younger, in middle school and in his baseball uniform. Hayato had to admit that even as a teenager, Yamamoto was very attractive and he _hated _to admit that he looked especially attractive in his baseball uniform.

He picked up the middle frame, the largest of them all and it was of Yamamoto and his family. His dad and his mother and Yamamoto. He looked to be a teenager here, but out of the awkwardness and growing into his handsomeness. His mother was a beautiful woman, with large almond shaped eyes and long, silky looking black hair and his father brandished the same wide and bright grin that Yamamoto wore all the time. Except in this picture, he wore a lazy grin; lopsided and crooked but smug and a bit arrogant. He fit that look for his age, Hayato guessed. He probably had a really big ego back then and Hayato could tell that by looking at his eyes. They were the eyes that Hayato sees whenever Yamamoto gets serious and they weren't covered by glasses.

They sat on the bleachers, Yamamoto in the middle, on one lower than his parents with an elbow on each of their legs. Both of his parents were smiling with a hand rested on his shoulders.

Hayato studied the picture, feeling like something was off. Yamamoto looked different here, no glasses and smug smile but now he's got thick, framed glasses and his smile is blinding. He gets that same look in his eye every now and again, Hayato has seen it a few times. But something had changed between then and now, but Hayato couldn't figure out what. Maybe an eye injury that caused him to have to wear glasses? He obviously couldn't wear contacts, Hayato believed he probably would if he could. He'd even wear contacts if he could but he had a special condition where the material of the contacts irritated his eyes. He only really needed them to read so he was content about wearing glasses.

The other thing that bothered him was that he had never heard Yamamoto mention his mother. The last week Yamamoto has talked a little about his dad, talked about them being really close but he hasn't heard him say anything about his mother. Even when they had been outside the restaurant, he had said it was his _dad's _place, not his_ parents'_ place.

He heard the padding of footsteps behind him. He turned to see Yamamoto with a beer in his hand and a smile on his face. Hayato turned back to set the picture on the mantle when Yamamoto wrapped his arms around his waist.

Hayato shifted the weight off his good leg and leaned into Yamamoto, letting his weight support him. Yamamoto set his chin on Hayato's shoulder.

"That was me when I was nineteen, right after the last baseball season I played. That's my dad and that's my mom," he said, pointing to picture.

Yamamoto always smelled really good, his skin always smelled like fresh soap with just a hint of the outside, dirt and air and sunlight. Hayato closed his eyes and breathed in his scent, memorizing the uniqueness of it.

"Where's your mom now?" Hayato asked, treading carefully. He didn't want to pry or make it sound like an interrogation. He was just curious.

"She died five years ago," Yamamoto replied quietly. He didn't elaborate and Hayato didn't push it.

"My mother died too," he offered instead. "When I was three. I never really knew her. I... I was an illegitimate child, my father had an affair with her. He was a powerful man so he took her from me when I was born and raised me with his wife. I found out a few years later when I was eight and I..." He trailed off when he realized he had already said more than he wanted to. He was normally so composed but Yamamoto made it so easy to talk to, Hayato just couldn't shut his mouth around him and he didn't know why.

Yamamoto lifted a hand and brushed Hayato's hair off the back of his neck and softly kissed from the nape to the base. "I'm sorry," he whispered , his breath warm. It made Hayato's flesh bump and tingle from head to toe. He turned his head and caught Yamamoto's lips as they passed by his. Yamamoto held him tighter, draping one arm over his shoulders and chest. Hayato closed his eyes and felt the soft roughness of Yamamoto's tongue brush against his lips and he opened his mouth, letting it slide in.

Hayato's body felt weightless, the kiss made his head feel light. This one was different from the ones before, this one was slow and tentative. Sensual, if Hayato had to use a word to describe it. Intimate, if he had to use two. He never knew kisses could feel like this and it was strange, because he thought he could sense a lot more feeling from this one, not just lust. It scared him a little, this nameless emotion but even Yamamoto's kiss was tranquil, it had the same effect on Hayato as everything else Yamamoto did to him.

Yamamoto was drawing his tongue out, lazily coaxing him to respond and Hayato did, rolling his tongue over Yamamoto's and gradually exploring the inside of his mouth. He always had the taste of spun sugar, sweet and saccharine but there was something else that hit Hayato's tastebuds when his tongue clashed against Yamamoto's, when he tasted all of his mouth. It was a taste difficult to describe, and if he'd have to use a word it would simply be _umami. _Something incredible, something delicious but all at the same time indescribable. Better than any age old whiskey or cigarette, better than the freshest brewed Italian or Colombian coffee and definitely better than any food Hayato has ever tasted.

Letting nothing but sense take over, Hayato could feel the cool night air that drifted in through an open window on his sensitive and goosebumped skin. He felt the tingles, not painful like pins and needles, that started in his toes and followed up his spine and stretched out in the back of his neck. He could feel the heat that spread through his chest and into his stomach and finally down to his groin. Unintentionally, he moaned into Yamamoto's mouth and it was a moan unlike any other he had heard himself make. It sounded embarrassing, pleading and needy yet it did nothing to stop him.

However, the pressure in his lungs and the dizziness in his head did, and he regrettably had to part for air. He tried not to pant, make it seem like he had not been about to lose his cool but Yamamoto slid his hand desperately through Hayato's hair and clutched it, forgetting that he needed to breathe too and pressed his lips firmly to Hayato's. This time he didn't wait for Yamamoto's tongue, he took control and just as Hayato began to get lost in another one of those kisses, Yamamoto broke away and chuckled.

"Come," he panted playfully. "Let's eat."

* * *

**A/N:**

**Little bit of fluff here, next chapter will have some fluffy smut. Yay! **

**Anyways, reviews feed my starving ego. Don't disappoint! xo**


	14. Book I : My Saint : Chapter XIV

_**Chapter XIV**_

* * *

Yamamoto had suggested Hayato take a bath while he cleaned up after dinner. He was reluctant at first, but Yamamoto started to annoy him so he agreed. And he was glad that he did because it gave him time to think about everything that had happened since he first stepped on the crime scene of the serial killer's first victim and everything else that's happened since meeting Yamamoto. He's tried several times to reevaluate his relationship with the reporter but the end result is always the same. He's just not happy with giving up something he enjoys because a creepy pineapple fairy says he has to, despite the influence he has over Tsuna.

Dinner was great, and he'd be damned if he complimented Yamamoto so he just tucked it away like he does everything else. The conversation was light, no work and no past just random nonsensical chatter. Yamamoto wasn't a bad guy, annoying and stupid, but he wasn't bad company. He felt relaxed and amazing and a little buzzed from the pain medication he had taken that day before he left the hospital and the few beers (and the few cups of saké) he had at dinner.

Coming out of the bathroom dressed in jeans and a worn tee, he limped down the narrow hallway towel drying his hair. Yamamoto turned the corner and met him halfway.

He grinned and reached out a hand, wrapping his fingers around a lock of Hayato's damp hair. "Wah, it gets a little curly when it's wet, haha."

Hayato could feel himself blushing and he swatted Yamamoto's hand away. "Stop that," he hissed. He saw Yamamoto's cheeks turn a faint pink. He didn't think he's ever seen Yamamoto with that flushed look when he hasn't been fucking him. It was kind of... cute.

_Did you really just think that?_

"Sorry, haha. Hey, you're not using your crutches."

"Che, I don't need those stupid things. If I don't try, I'll never get better."

"If you put too much strain on it, it'll never get better either, haha. Come, I'll show you my room."

"You live here?" Hayato asked incredulously.

"Haha, no. I have my own apartment closer to town but sometimes I stay here and help my dad out. It's my room from when I was in high school so it's a little juvenile. My dad never changed it after I moved out, haha." Yamamoto rubbed the back of his head.

"Oi, baseball freak. I ain't gonna stay at your dad's house in your teenage bedroom when I got my own place."

Yamamoto grasped his hand and tugged. "C'mon, please? Let's not go back to your place where your sister is, let's just enjoy the place to ourselves, ne?"

Hayato sighed. How many times was he going to just give in to this idiot? He wanted to put his foot down and say no, but Yamamoto's big, pleading eyes behind those frames struck a soft spot within him. "I hate you, you know that?" he growled.

Yamamoto laughed. "Is that a yes?"

"Che. Do as you please, idiot."

Yamamoto grinned and threw his arms around Hayato's neck, nearly knocking him backward. "You make me so happy, Gokudera!"

"Oi!" Hayato shouted with surprise. "And don't say things like that! You're a ridiculously big kid, aren't you?!"

"Haha, maybe! Come, it's this door here." Yamamoto dragged him to a closed door beside the bathroom and opened it up. Hayato stepped inside and honestly, he can't say he wasn't surprised to see baseball shit _everywhere_. Posters and pennants on the walls, a small glass trophy case with _more _trophies and encased baseballs and gloves. Only the bed sheets, which were a navy blue, were safe from the childhood memorabilia.

"Ha... you weren't joking," Hayato said, bemused.

"Haha, it's okay right? The bed's big enough for two," Yamamoto said suggestively, nudging Hayato in the ribs.

Hayato couldn't help the grin that pulled at his lips but he hid it in a scoff. "You idiot. How many guys have you used that line on?"

Yamamoto looked over at Hayato in disbelief. "None," he said seriously.

Hayato is curious by nature. He likes answers to all his questions, things that are logical and make sense and when he doesn't get something, his first reaction is to ask questions. He's also a police officer and interrogations come naturally. He doesn't mean to but he also has a problem with keeping his mouth shut, because he's also blunt and brutally honest (most of the time) by nature.

"When did you know?" he blurted. "Because I don't understand how, if you knew all this time -"

Yamamoto turned towards him and leaned against the door frame. "What, that I was gay? I didn't, really."

Hayato raised a skeptical brow and leaned back against the other side of the door frame and crossed his arms over his chest. "What do you mean you didn't know? You're pretty fucking aggressive when it comes to me, you can't expect me to believe that."

Yamamoto shrugged. "I like you."

Hayato narrowed his eyes. His nature is also to be suspicious of everyone first, guilty in his eyes until proven innocent. "You don't go from liking chicks to liking dick with the snap of a finger, bastard. Stop being so fucking cryptic. I fucked you the first night I met you. You were practically begging for it. Virgin my ass," he said sourly.

Yamamoto frowned. "It's not like that. I've seen you in the papers, I've heard all about the amazing things you do for this city and you... you just caught my interest."

"People pique my interest all the time, doesn't mean I want to fuck them. There are certainly some women out there that I could find interesting but it wouldn't mean I'd find them attractive enough to fuck the second I got them alone. That's absurd, idiot."

Yamamoto sighed. "Why... why do you make everything so difficult?"

"_Me_? I'm just trying to figure you out, I don't understand you and it irks the fuck right outta me. You say you didn't know you were gay, you say you were a virgin but you fuck like a pro and you do shit with your mouth that I didn't even know was possible. You see that? Those two formulas don't have any common denominator. It doesn't make _sense,_ Yamamoto."

Yamamoto scratched his head. "When I was a teenager, I was focused on baseball and kendo, helping my dad with the shop and school. Sure, I thought girls were attractive and I dated a few but they never lasted more than a couple of days. I was too busy to care and cared more about other things... but when I first saw Gokudera in person... I was blown away. You're so beautiful."

Hayato's face began to burn and his heart began to race. "I-idiot, don't say-"

"I have to. I have to, right? You don't understand so I'm going to tell you, no matter how embarrassed you get. So just shut up and listen." The tone Yamamoto used was stern but not abrasive and it made Hayato's heart suspend mid beat. He closed his mouth and pouted.

"When I first saw you, it was like nothing else. I can't even explain it, I'm not good at that kind of stuff, haha... But being with you made me feel things I've never felt before and I just wanted you. Every bit of you. I... I fell for you fast and maybe I was gay all along, maybe none of those relationships worked before because I didn't _want _them to. Whatever it is, it's you. It's always been just you."

Hayato didn't bother to hide the flaring red that he knew his face was but he couldn't make eye contact with Yamamoto. Things like feelings just don't make sense to him and maybe now he's starting to understand a little bit because he's been feeling things he's never felt before but he doesn't understand how someone can just put so much faith in such an unreliable thing.

"And the other thing... well, I just don't know but when I'm with you it's so _hard_ to keep my hands off you. The things I do is just instinct, I don't know what I'm doing but I guess... when we're together that way, I feel bold. I want to make you feel the way I feel so I just go with what my gut tells me to do. And when I see that you like it, I remember it. I remember everything when it comes to Gokudera."

Hayato felt Yamamoto's hand wrap around his arm and he tugged on it, and Hayato let himself be led into his arms.

"Whatever happened to you to make you this way, I'm sorry... but my feelings for you are pure and honest. You can trust me."

Hayato was at a loss for words. He hated feeling so vulnerable, having someone see right through him. But being here and hearing these words, no matter how skeptical he was of them still, made him feel good, warm and content. He's stubborn so he didn't respond to the hug or Yamamoto's words and they just stood in the doorway of his bedroom in silence.

But silence isn't something Yamamoto is capable of and he breaks it by laughing which really pisses Hayato off. He pulled away from Yamamoto and punched him in the arm.

"Ow!" he winced, still laughing.

"Bastard! What the hell is so funny!"

"Haha, I told you, Gokudera makes me nervous! And you're not saying anything so I don't know what else to do."

Hayato scowled. "Che, idiot. I'll tell you what to do! Go shower and get your fucking ass to bed. Bastard. Laughing at people after saying those kinds of things. Honestly, you're unbelievable."

Yamamoto laughed and pulled Hayato into him again and kissed him hard and quick. "You're really cute when you're mad."

"Say that again, I dare you. There is absolutely _nothing _cute or beautiful about me, I'm a fucking man!"

Yamamoto narrowed his eyes and got real serious, cupped Hayato's crotch and smirked. "I know," he said smugly.

Hayato jumped back and growled. "Go shower, you bastard or I'm gonna beat you up."

"Haha! Alright, alright. I'm going! Gokudera's so cruel." Yamamoto walked into his room and grabbed some clothes from his dresser drawer while Hayato glared at him.

"I'm going, I'm going," he said, laughing as he walked into the bathroom.

"What an idiot," Hayato muttered.

He walked into Yamamoto's room and looked at his things, picking up this and (secretly) admiring that before shedding off his clothes and climbing into bed and under the sheets. They smelled clean, but they also smelled like him, fresh and earthy from years of exposure to his natural and unique musk. It was strange to be in someone else's house, in someone else's bed but it felt more comfortable than his own. It's not that these sheets were thousand thread count Egyptian cotton sheets or the fine, Italian linens he used to sleep on in his father's castle, but the touch of them against his naked skin was comfortable; relaxing and somewhat exciting at the same time. It was the thrill of something new, something Hayato had never done before. He never slept anywhere other than his own bed (never at the motels - except for that one time with the idiot and maybe his car) and the fact that. it was Yamamoto's bed made it all the more erotic.

He was almost asleep when he heard footsteps outside the bedroom. He opened his eyes and they were blown wide when Yamamoto walked through the door, dripping wet with beads of water still glistening on his skin. His hair was tousled and unruly, fraying out in sporadic licks. He wore no glasses and the bandage was off his chin, revealing a deep scar from the base of his chin to within an inch of his lower lip closer to the right. He was dressed in only black boxers, with a thumb hooked into the front of his waistband and a hand resting on the door knob.

Hayato had to snap his mouth shut because for a second there, he was petty sure he was drooling.

"Sorry, didn't mean to wake you," Yamamoto said softly, closing the door behind him.

"I wasn't sleeping," murmured Hayato, adverting his gaze from the tantalizing sight before him.

"Oh, okay then." Yamamoto walked over to the bed and crawled into it. A rush of cool air hit Hayato's warm skin and he shuddered.

Yamamoto gasped. "Gokudera... are you na-"

"Shut up, you bastard. I like to sleep like this. Got a problem with it?"

A devilish grin spread across Yamamoto's face. "No."

"Then come here and pull the blankets up. It's cold, idiot."

Yamamoto scooted closer and draped an arm around Hayato's waist. "You okay? From earlier, I mean."

"I'm fine."

"Tired?"

"A little," Hayato lied. Now that there was skin on skin contact, Hayato's cock was determined to keep him awake.

Yamamoto hummed. "So... should I let you sleep or should I...?"

Hayato felt Yamamoto's long fingers trace down his abdomen and brush the tip of his cock. His breath hitched, ever so slightly and he turned his head to face Yamamoto. "You should definitely do that," he said with a smirk and Yamamoto's eyes went dark.

He leaned in and brushed his lips against Hayato's and wrapped his fingers around his shaft. He stroked it slow and broke away from the kiss, licking his lips. "Like this?"

Hayato felt an anticipating flutter in his stomach. "Yeah." He turned on his side and took Yamamoto's cock in his hand. He thumbed the slit and licked a hard stripe from Yamamoto's neck to his ear. "Should I do this?"

Yamamoto's hand tightened around his dick and he moaned quietly. "Yeah." He pumped a little faster and Hayato matched his rhythm. He kissed Hayato again, this time a little more desperately, biting his lip and following it with his tongue. He took his hand off Hayato and pushed him down on his back, shifting so he was looming over him.

Hayato looked up at Yamamoto with a bit of surprise and confusion and Yamamoto licked his lips, leaning in and assaulting his neck with his teeth. He left a wet trail of kisses down Hayato's chest and stopped at his navel. He looked up at Hayato with hunger in his eyes. "Can I do this?" he asked, licking up Hayato's shaft.

Hayato bit his lip and clutched Yamamoto's hair with one hand. "Yeah," he said with a smirk, tugging on Yamamoto's hair for emphasis.

Yamamoto took him into his hot mouth and swirled his tongue around the length, stopping to pay attention to his head. Hayato propped himself up on his elbows and let his head fall back, groaning as Yamamoto tightened the grip he had with his mouth. Hayato held his head steady, still grasping Yamamoto's thick hair and letting the heat rush through him like a wildfire. He lifted his hips a bit, delving deeper into Yamamoto's mouth until he hit the back of his throat and Yamamoto groaned, the vibration rippling down his cock.

"You like that?" he sneered, lifting Yamamoto's head up to look at him. Yamamoto's lips curled around his cock and he nipped at the head gently. It caused Hayato to shudder, relaxing his grip on Yamamoto's hair and he bucked into his mouth once more. He wanted to come but he didn't want to be done with this sensation just yet, the jolts of electricity firing through his synapses were too much of an addiction to quit.

It was over too soon when Yamamoto took a final dip in his slit with his tongue and licked up Hayato's torso. He braced himself on either side of him, caging him in and Hayato surged up to snatch his bottom lip between his teeth and growled. "I'm gonna fuck you so hard," he said, grabbing hold of Yamamoto's hair again.

Yamamoto let out a moan that sounded like a contented whine and smashed his lips on to Hayato's. The kiss was rough and Yamamoto wrapped a hand around both their cocks and stroked, splaying his fingers down the length and pressing in firmly for better pressure.

Hayato's eyes rolled into the back of his head and he panted, lost in a bout of ecstasy. He moved his hand from Yamamoto's hair and gripped his biceps, digging his blunt fingernails into the flesh. He felt the heat intensify and he was close to losing it. Determined to prolong the sensation, he made an instant decision and used as much strength as he could muster to push Yamamoto back.

Yamamoto stopped and looked down at Hayato, brow furrowed in confusion. "Are you okay?"

Hayato felt his heart beat just a little slower and he began to calm himself down. He looked up at Yamamoto and chewed his lip. "I want to try something."

Yamamoto leaned back on to his heels and looked at Hayato quizzically. "Okay."

Hayato shifted into a full sitting position and pushed Yamamoto down on the opposite end of the bed and began kissing him, starting with his lips down to his chin where he licked over the fresh scar. Yamamoto's hands slid up his back and into his hair as he kissed further down, biting and sucking hard on his collarbone. He pinched the skin firmly between his teeth. When Yamamoto hissed, Hayato looked up and smirked. "That's for the hickey you left on me last week."

Yamamoto returned his smirk with a dark one of his own and said, "Mm, that's because I wanted everyone to know Gokudera belongs to me."

Normally this kind of confession, this kind of _possessiveness _would have Hayato running in the opposite direction, fast and far away. But caught up in the moment, letting unfounded emotions take control, Hayato couldn't have thought it sounded more seductive and sexy coming from that serious side of Yamamoto.

Reaching up to pull on Yamamoto's hair, Hayato let out a carnal growl and crushed their lips together, roughly and clacking teeth. "Now you belong to me," he snarled and worked his way down Yamamoto's chest, leaving teeth marks and bruises on his dark skin. Moaning, Yamamoto arched his back and clutched Hayato's hair at the roots as he pinched and sucked hard on each erect nipple. He continued down his torso until he got to his abdomen where he dragged down Yamamoto's boxers and grabbed hold of his cock.

He glanced up at Yamamoto and held his dazed and hazy gaze. "Hey, baseball freak... can I do this?" He wet his mouth and took him in, using the flat of his tongue to slide up Yamamoto's shaft.

"Go-Gokudera," Yamamoto choked.

Hayato moved his mouth up and down a few times, his tongue exploring every inch it could reach and he pulled off with a pop.

"Hm?" he mused, cockily raising an eyebrow.

Yamamoto's breath was shallow and he looked at Hayato with lust lidded eyes. "Fuck... fuck _yes,_" he panted and Hayato took his dick into his mouth once more.

This is new to him. He's never been a giver unless he's fucking and he couldn't imagine doing this with anyone other than Yamamoto. Surprisingly Yamamoto tastes the way he smells, fresh and earthy and just a little bit salty. It's a good taste, it makes the tastebuds on his tongue explode and that first hint of precum drives him over the edge. He wets his index and middle fingers and presses them in slow, feeling Yamamoto's muscle tighten and suck them a little further. He used an arm to keep Yamamoto from thrusting into his mouth by pressing down on his abdomen while he pushed up into his ass. Hayato tightend the grip of his lips around Yamamoto's cock and sucked hard as he pushed deeper into him, stroking the velvety walls and adding a third finger when Yamamoto was slick and wet.

Yamamoto was pulling at his hair and practically screaming, calling out Hayato's name at least a dozen times. He was begging and Hayato loved the sound of it.

"Goku... I can't... can't take it anymore, please."

Hayato pulled off his cock and looked up at the quivering hot mess before him. His skin was flushed and marked with Hayato's teeth and his eyes were squeezed shut, his mouth in an open O while hoarse and raspy moans made their way out.

"Not yet," he said smugly and watched Yamamoto squirm as he fingered his ass. He knew it wouldn't take long for either of them to come and he wanted to enjoy this erotic sight just a little longer.

He stroked and twisted and scissored until he thought Yamamoto couldn't catch a breath.

"'Dera... I'm r-ready... hu-rry up," he wined, writhing and fisting the bed sheets.

"You want me to fuck you now?"

"Yes, _fuck me_. Fuck me hard like you promised," Yamamoto panted.

Hayato smirked and hummed, pleased that he managed to take back control. He stood on his knees and grabbed Yamamoto's thighs, lining himself up against his ass. He let one of Yamamoto's legs rest on his shoulder while the other he wrapped around his waist. "As you wish," he said, licking the side of Yamamoto's leg. He felt Yamamoto tremble and he pushed in slow and withdrew and did it again, drawing out a long groan from Yamamoto. When he could see the painful frustration on Yamamoto's face, he snapped his hips hard and hilted, earning a mild howl from Yamamoto. Hayato stopped to give him time to adjust but Yamamoto pushed down on him and Hayato moved slowly.

"Mm... Yamamoto... Does it feel good?" Hayato asked with a bite to his calf.

"Fuck harder, Hayato. Fuck _harder_."

Hayato thrust into him deep, the sound of his given name resounding off the blood that rushed in his ears and sending ripples of pleasure down his spine. "My name... say it again."

Yamamoto moaned loudly and Hayato gripped his hips, slamming hard into his ass while Yamamoto screamed his name. Hayato dropped his leg off his shoulder and jerked his cock, his hips slapping of Yamamoto's ass.

"Unh, Hayato!" Yamamoto shouted, arching his back and digging his nails into Hayato's biceps as he clenched down hard around his cock and came, spraying his chest and chin. Such a lewd visual made Hayato come apart at the seams and without realizing it he called out _Takeshi _on winded breath as he climaxed. He collapsed on top of Yamamoto's sticky chest and dragged a lazy hand through his damp and sweaty hair. Yamamoto was busy catching his breath, his heart thudding loudly against his rib cage and he kissed Hayato's arm that was planted over his face.

Once he could summon enough energy to move, Hayato eased out of Yamamoto and grabbed his arm, pulling the dead weight back onto the pillows with him. Yamamoto flopped down beside him, still struggling to catch his breath.

"Holy fuck," Hayato murmured, turning over to face Yamamoto. Yamamoto grinned lazily and wrapped an arm around Hayato's waist.

"Mm," Yamamoto hummed tiredly.

"Sleep?"

Yamamoto nodded, leaning in to kiss him. Nothing too extravagant because Hayato knew where those kisses could lead to and he was exhausted. And now that the adrenaline rush was starting to dissipate, the pain in his leg and chest returned.

Yamamoto pulled him in closer until their bodies were flush, closed his eyes and rested his chin on Hayato's shoulder. "Good night, Hayato," he whispered.

Hayato was about to retort and give him shit for using his first name but he decided they both bask in the afterglow and he let Yamamoto have this one. Just this once.

Listening to Yamamoto's soft snores, Hayato's lids began to feel heavy and he lingered with them half shuttered for a minute. And as Hayato drifted off, he couldn't help thinking the way he fell for Yamamoto was similar to the way you fall asleep. Slow at first, but once it hits you it's fast and all once.

He thinks maybe this is just that kind of love his sister keeps telling him about.

* * *

**Author's Note :**

**It was supposed to be fluffy smut but my muses had a different idea. I quite like Hayato better this way. **

**Anyways, i was also going to add the meeting with Tsuyoshi in this chapter but i didn't want to take away from the smut. Hope you enjoyed it, see you next chapter! xo**


	15. Boook I : My Saint : Chapter XV

_**Chapter XV**_

* * *

Hayato felt sunlight beaming down on his cheek and he pulled the blankets over his head. His leg throbbed and when he shifted to ease the pain, he remembered that he wasn't at home or in his own bed. He jolted upright and realized Yamamoto wasn't in bed with him.

"That idiot," Hayato cursed under his breath. He was in someone else's house and he felt extremely awkward just strolling around without even meeting the owner.

Hayato hadn't been awake for more than five min minutes when the door to Yamamoto's room opened and in walked Yamamoto, mug in hand and a big smile on his face. He was dressed in navy track pants and a white tee, glasses on and his hair was it's usual just-fucked mess.

"Morning! Coffee?"

Hayato scowled and Yamamoto laughed, handing the cup to him. "Are you always grouchy in the mornings?"

"Bastard, you just left me here in your room like an idiot. I'm not just gonna go walking out of your room and say 'Oh hey, Yamamoto-san, excuse the intrusion but I banged your son last night and that's why I'm here'," he growled.

Yamamoto flopped down on the bed laughing. "Haha, I'd like to see his reaction to that. He doesn't know _that_ about us, but he knows about Gokudera."

Hayato glared at him. "What do you mean he knows about me? What did you tell him?"

Yamamoto set his glasses on the bedside table and put his head in Hayato's lap. He looked up at him, scratching his cheek with his index finger. "Mm, just that Gokudera is a really great guy and I really like him," he finished with a grin.

Hayato smacked his hand over Yamamoto's face. "Idiot. I can just imagine the sappy shit you must say." He took a sip of his black coffee (no milk, no sugar - he remembered) and Yamamoto grasped his hand in his, kissed his palm and put it over his chest.

Hayato went red in the face and he opened to say something harsh, but instead he just shut it and stared at him for a long minute and wondered how he got from point A to point B. How he went from having so many rules to none, how he ended up in someone's bed instead of his own. How he actually came to _feel _something for someone; this particular guy, no less.

"Are you okay?"

"I'm fine. You don't always have to ask me, che. If I wasn't, you'd know about it."

"I never know what Gokudera is thinking... so I just want to be sure."

Hayato sighed. "Where is your dad now?"

"Out on errands."

"Well, I should leave before he gets back then," Hayato said, setting the mug on the bedside table.

"You could shower and get dressed before he gets back and he'd never know you stayed. But you won't leave until I make you breakfast, ne?"

Hayato snorted. "Talking like my wife again?"

"I wouldn't mind," Yamamoto said whimsically, reaching up to twirl a lock of Hayato's hair.

"Ugh, shut up."

Yamamoto laughed.

"Don't you think it'll be a bit obvious? Why would I come here so early in the morning? Why do I have a bag packed with my things here? Etcetera, etcetera... "

Yamamoto haphazardly shrugged. "Nah, my dad will buy it."

Hayato smirked and tugged at a strand of Yamamoto's hair. "Idiocy runs in the family?"

"Haha, so mean."

"Well we need to figure out something before your dad gets here so that means you have to get your giant body off of me."

Yamamoto whined. "But Gokudera's lap is so comfortable. Just stay in bed with me, my dad won't care."

"Yamamoto, I'm not a fucking teenager. We can't just stay in bed all day, I have things to do. Besides, that's not an ideal situation for me, I'm not up for an awkward meet the parent moment." Hayato pulled his hand free from Yamamoto's. "We're not even in a relationship, how do I explain myself to your father?"

Yamamoto frowned. "I thought we established last night... You know, I'm yours, you're mine. Remember?"

Heat spread through Hayato's face and he stuttered, flustered. "T-that was an in the moment slip of the tongue, you bastard. I don't belong to anyone."

Yamamoto's eyes got dark and he lifted himself into a sitting position. He ran his fingers through Hayato's hair and found purchase at the back of his neck, clutching the roots. He tugged hard, pulling Hayato's head back so his neck was taut.

"Yama-!"

He leaned in and bit down on Hayato's throat, following the assault with his tongue and worked his way up to the shell of his ear. "Hayato..." His tone was low and hollow. "You _are_ mine. I won't see you with anyone else." He released his grip on Hayato's hair so that Hayato could face him and he couldn't help but be a little startled at the sudden shift in Yamamoto's demeanor. He stared at him, waiting for Hayato's response; his eyes intensively malicious.

Hayato was speechless, eyes wide and pupils blown. He had a fluttering in the pit of his stomach and his heart was racing, pounding hard against his chest. He didn't want to admit defeat, he didn't want to commit to Yamamoto and a _relationship _and he definitely didn't want to succumb to Yamamoto's more serious side. That wasn't who he was, wasn't his style.

But unfortunately when his hazel eyes, usually bright and bouncing, were narrowed and focused, it made Hayato weak in the knees. When he used such force to grab Hayato's hair and bit down on his throat, it had sent jolts of sharp electric currents down his spine. And when he used that tone, stern and demanding, it sparked an excitement like no other down below. He actually _l__iked _it, and he was beginning to realize he was a lot more fucked up than he thought because he should be running, he should be _fleeing _from Yamamoto. Except he couldn't do that, he was undoubtedly at this man's mercy.

So for a second, he faltered.

"Y-yeah, o-okay..."

An eerily pleased grin, lopsided and crooked, made it's way across Yamamoto's face. "Yeah what, Hayato?"

He couldn't even focus on the fact that Yamamoto had been using his first name, that Yamamoto had wrapped his hand around the side of his throat and that his thumb was running over his Adam's apple. He couldn't focus because he was reeling from all the blood rushing from his head to his cock and the intense heat pooling in his stomach. It was almost painful, the want - the _lust _he felt was overwhelming and he found his chest was tightening with his lungs constricted.

"Ya-Yama-" He struggled to argue, form the words that his brain was desperately screaming. _Say no. Tell him he's fucking crazy and you're leaving. You don't do crazy, remember? That's why you left Italy._

Yamamoto leaned in close and bit down hard on Hayato's lower lip. He tasted blood and winced and then Yamamoto kissed him gently.

"_Takeshi_. You're going to call me Takeshi now," he said smoothly, his breath hitting Hayato's lips

"N-no, you're fucking -"

Yamamoto pushed him down hard on the bed and loomed over him. "I guess I'll have to teach you in a language you understand, hm?" He reached down and rubbed Hayato's crotch through the bed sheets. "Mm, already so hard. Could it be that you like it like this?"

"Wha... Sh-shut up, bastard."

Yamamoto smirked and carressed him. "Always so difficult, Hayato. So stubborn. Should I show you then, that you're mine?"

Hayato's heart was beating so fast it hurt and he felt stunned, caught like a deer in a flood of headlights and all he could do was look up at Yamamoto's sinister grin and grind his hips up into his hand. Yamamoto leaned in and licked up Hayato's neck and he pulled down the sheets to grab at his flesh.

The skin on skin contact was hot and searing and the sensation ripped through his body, blurring his vision. A gasp and a moan like he's never heard before left his mouth and he slapped a hand over it. _Damn this guy..._

Hayato knew the marks he was leaving would be really visible against his fair skin and somewhere in the back of his mind he was pissed. But every hot bite and lick made him shiver as Yamamoto worked his way down Hayato's body. His hand moved fluidly over his cock and he finally brought Hayato's cock to his lips and he nipped at the head. Hayato's breath caught in his throat and he grabbed on to Yamamoto's hair. No matter how new either he or Yamamoto was at this whole oral thing, it the sensation of Yamamoto's rough tongue swirling around his shaft and his tight lips dragging up and down felt amazing. He couldn't imagine anyone better to do this to him than Yamamoto.

Hayato stifled a moan he knew was going to sound wanton and needy and opted for clutching at Yamamoto's hair as Yamamoto pushed at the sides of his knees to spread his legs further apart, hooking one arm under his leg and gripping his inner thigh so hard that Hayato knew it was going to leave arched his back, shifting his pelvis up until Yamamoto pushed down hard on his hip bone. He stilled and was completely docile, inviting his impending crash.

Until he felt Yamamoto's finger trace across that forbidden stretch of skin and tease his hole. Hayato froze and drew in a sharp breath, anxiety pooling in his gut. "Wait, Yama -"

Yamamoto looked up at him and smirked, mouth still hot on his cock. He defiantly pushed the tip of his finger in. Hayato panicked and squirmed, but Yamamoto's firm grip on his thigh kept him stationary.

"Yamamoto!" he cried. "Stop, you b-bas-"

Yamamoto stopped and took his mouth away, pushing Hayato down with a firm hand, pinning him, while the other hand gripped his ass. He nudged his finger in further. "I told you to call me Takeshi, didn't I?"

Hayato looked up, eyes wide and gripped his biceps, digging his nails in. "D-don't."

Yamamoto raised a long, inquiring brow and added second finger too quickly. Hayato yelped.

"Don't what, Hayato?"

The sensation was embarrassing and uncomfortable and Hayato wasn't feeling this at all. This was different. The lust he felt had been replaced with panic and anxiety. He liked Yamamoto, he'd be willing to admit that much to himself and the serious side of him no doubt turned him on, but this... this wasn't a good feeling. Using force, using a weakness against him to violate him; to _exploit _him, it didn't feel right at all.

"T-Takeshi... _Stop._" Hayato's voice trembled and he hated the way he sounded. He was disgusted with himself. No other words to describe the way he felt and the pleading, frightening tremor in his voice made him sick to his stomach. He couldn't breathe and was unable to move; too stupefied.

Yamamoto must have noticed too, and it was like a switch went off in his brain- something snapped and brought him back to reality. The menacing look in his eyes disappeared and he looked down at Hayato with surprise. He quickly withdrew his fingers and crushed him into a hug, kissing the side of his jaw and whispered apologies.

"Sorry... I'm so sorry," he murmured, muffled against Hayato's neck. "Gokudera, are you alright?"

The anxiety that had crept up into his chest released its iron grip on his heart and lungs. He let out a long shaky breath and his heart resumed its hammering against his rib cage. He had never felt so panicked in his life but he knew he didn't like it, he knew he never wanted to feel so small and helpless again. And surprisingly, he couldn't bring himself to be angry and oh how he wanted to be. He wanted to punch and kick and beat the living shit out of Yamamoto for making him feel that way. He wanted to loathe him, despise him, _hate _him for reducing him to feeling like a scared little child. He hadn't felt that way since he left his father's castle in Italy. Since he _was _a frightened little child, eight years old and living on the streets of Palermo. But despite wanting to be angry with Yamamoto, he couldn't be. Part of him was furious, but part of him was just wanting to forget it and go home, but the other part was willing to forgive, not wanting to give up the way this man made him feel.

"Gokudera... _please_ say something." Yamamoto's voice was laced with concern, a little shrill with panic and Hayato wondered if he felt the same way he had felt just moments before.

"Ba...bastard," Hayato muttered, still trying to compose himself. "Don't _ever _do that again, or I'll kill you."

Yamamoto pushed himself up and brushed a strand of hair from Hayato's face. Hayato bore into his eyes, the sunlight that reflected off them made his irises look like hardened amber sap but they were soft and remorseful, pooling with worry. He frowned. "I... I'm really sorry, I didn't mean to hurt Gokudera."

Hayato turned his head and adverted his eyes. "Idiot... you didn't hurt me. You just freaked me out. Don't do it again."

He felt Yamamoto's lips press hard on his cheek. "I won't, I promise."

Hayato snaked his arms around his neck and turned back to face him. "Good," he said and Yamamoto kissed him, gently but passionately and Hayato kissed back.

Yet his mind was racing with incomplete thoughts; conflicting with the way his heart and body felt. Rational battling the irrational, logical clashing against the illogical. It actually hurt his head to think, it wasn't clear or making sense and he just needed some _space._

Yamamoto broke away and rested his forehead against Hayato's. "I... I think I need to go for a jog, I need to clear my head."

_You and me both, you crazy fuck._

_Yeah, but you actually like the crazy, don't you? Who's fucked up more?_

Hayato couldn't help but scoff and knock Yamamoto against the side of his head. To prove his point not yet made, his skull made a hollow echoing sound. "There's nothing but air in there anyways, baseball freak."

"Haha, always so cruel... Will you stay and wait for me? I really want to cook for you when I get back."

"Yeah, sure," he lied. Hayato knew he was going to get the fuck out of there the second Yamamoto left. Despite his _feelings,_ Hayato is still a very logical man and everything about the prior situation was telling him to hightail out of this place and stay far away until he could sort his shit out. The last thing he wanted to do was become a victim of Yamamoto's apparent multiple personality disorder.

"Okay... I'll be back soon so go shower before my dad gets back."

"I will," Hayato answered as Yamamoto gave him a quick peck on the lips and climbed off of him. He sat up and gathered the bed sheets to his waist, feeling a little vulnerable and uncomfortable under Yamamoto's gaze.

"See you soon," Yamamoto said, grabbing his glasses and kissing Hayato's forehead. He grinned and left the bedroom.

Despite the aching throb in his leg and chest, once Yamamoto left the bedroom he scrambled off the bed and hurriedly got dressed, pulling his messy bed hair into a tail. He searched the room and found his gym bag of belongings and his crutches. He slung the bag over his shoulder and leaned on one crutch, figuring two would be a little awkward to walk with because of the bulk from his gym bag.

He left the room and made his way to the wooden doors that separated the house from the restaurant. He found his shoes and put them on and just as he stood, the doors to the house slid open.

Hayato's heart leapt into his throat and he froze. He was now standing face to face with Yamamoto's father.

He looked just as surprised as Hayato was, in a white chef's coat and apron and a white handkerchief tied around his head, holding the mass of black hair back. Yamamoto looked a lot like his father, except his father lacked the tanned skin and hazel eyes.

"Oh! You must be Gokudera-kun! Yamamoto Tsuyoshi, Takeshi's old man." When he smiled, it was Yamamoto's; wide and bright, reaching his eyes. Hayato had been about to bow and introduce himself when Tsuyoshi held out his hand for him to shake.

"Western culture, right?"

Hayato let out a short, nervous laugh and shook his hand. "Ha, yeah... I'm Gokudera Hayato, detective for the Namimori Middle Police Department. Pleasure to meet you, sir."

Tsuyoshi laughed. "No formalities, c'mon. You can just call me Tsuyoshi."

"O-okay."

"Come in, have a seat at the bar. Can I get you something?"

"Uh, no... thank you. I was just on my way out."

"Nonsense. Takeshi told me you might be staying here for a little bit while your injury healed. Speaking of, is he home?"

_That bastard... already had something like this planned. And why the fuck didn't he tell me that he had already told his dad about me being here? _

"No, he's out on a run," Hayato said, hobbling into the restaurant. He rested the crutch against the wall and set the bag down on the floor beside it. He lifted himself up on a stool and watched Tsuyoshi move behind the bar.

"Ah, I see. That's good, he hasn't done that in a while."

Hayato stayed silent.

"So," Tsuyoshi began, moving things around. "How long have you been on the force?"

Hayato cleared his throat. "Eight years, four as a detective."

"Ah, very good. That Sawada Tsunayoshi is doing a great job at cleaning this place up, huh. Too bad the convictions never seem to stick."

"I agree, but the Ten- uh, my _boss_ tries his very best. He's a great man and works exceptionally hard at his job."

Tsuyoshi nodded. "Mhm, the man has great resolve."

"Yes, he does."

"Tea?"

"Uh.. sure, thank you."

Tsuyoshi busied himself preparing the tea while Hayato focused in on the counter top not feeling quite as awkward as he had anticipated, but he knew that it was inevitable.

"I hope you don't mind my saying so, but your hair is quite unique. I've never seen anyone with that remarkable colour," Tsuyoshi commented, his back to Hayato.

Hayato felt the shells of his ears burn. "T-thanks."

"So you're Italian, huh? From Italy, yet you speak fluent Japanese. Though I can still hear a bit of an Italian accent. Do you speak your native tongue often?"

"I am Italian, but I'm also a quarter Japanese," Hayato said, looking over as Tsuyoshi put on the kettle. "And occasionally, I do." Though he only really cursed in Italian and now that his sister was back, he spoke to her in Italian except for that one time Yamamoto had been there. Their father insisted they learn several different languages when they were younger, including English, French and Russian. Languages of the mafia, his father had told them.

"Takeshi tells me you've been in Namimori since you were fourteen. Did you move here with family?"

Hayato was beginning to feel like he was under the typical parental third degree. It was starting to get a little too personal for his liking. Hoping that Tsuyoshi would get the point, Hayato hesitantly cleared his throat and answered, "No, I came alone." and didn't elaborate.

The shrill shriek of the kettle interruped their conversation and Hayato was glad for that but it didn't last long. "So your family is back in Italy then?"

"Yes."

Tsuyoshi handed him a piping hot mug and Hayato wrapped his hands around it. "Thank you."

Tsuyoshi looked at him and grinned. "Anything for a guest, Gokudera-kun."

Hayato smiled back and fell silent once more.

"You know... I'm really glad that Takeshi has met you."

The words echoed between Hayato's ears. "Hm?" he asked with surprise. Here it comes, the dreaded conversation.

Tsuyoshi looked over at him and smiled. "He was really depressed, has been for a while. Since his mother died, I guess. But the last few weeks he's been really happy, and I know you have something to do with it, Gokudera-kun."

Hayato smiled awkwardly. "Is that so?" he mused. He couldn't imagine that guy being depressed, although he did have a very different aide to him. Hayato wondered if his father knew about that side of him.

"Yes, I believe so. He's happier, and he talks a lot about you. You've become... his saviour."

Hayato stilled with the tea mug part way to his lips. His face burned and his blood pounded in his ears. What did you say to that? Hayato didn't know. He had never been called someone's saviour before. Not in all the years of him being an officer or any time prior. Many other things, but never this.

"He really likes you, Gokudera-kun. And I want to say thank you, for being such a good friend to my son. I'm glad he has someone like you in his life. Maybe now he can move on."

Hayato was definitely speechless. Tsuyoshi's eyes were honest and kind as was the smile on his face. But then he broke into laughter.

"Ah, I'm sorry. I must have made you uncomfortable, huh. Here, let me make you something to eat. What do you like?"

Hayato was about to tell him that he wasn't hungry when Yamamoto burst through the door.

"Ah, I'm home! That was great!"

Hayato whipped his head around and Yamamoto stood, panting with beads of sweat glistening on his temples. He pulled his glasses out of his pants pocket and shoved them on his face, pushing them up on the bridge of his nose with his index finger.

"Gokudera, I see you've met my old man," he said with a wide grin.

"Yeah."

"Gokudera-kun is a fine man, Takeshi. I can see what you like about him."

Hayato couldn't see, considering he never really said much of anything.

Yamamoto walked over to him and draped an arm around his shoulders, pulling him into his chest. "Haha, look he's blushing. Gokudera doesn't take compliments very well, dad."

Hayato felt so embarrassed, he wanted to die. How long were they going to talk about him like he wasn't in the room?

"Aha, don't be so modest, Gokudera-kun. Anyone who works hard to clean up this city and can make my Takeshi smile again is a good man in my books."

_Kill me now. Somebody kill me please. I'm surrounded by idiots._

Hayato tried to put some space between himself and Yamamoto but Yamamoto held him close, _too close_, and curled his fingers into his hair. Yamamoto's father was either not surprised by the gesture and closeness that shouldn't be shared by two men or he was more of an idiot than Hayato thought. Not that he really thought Tsuyoshi was an idiot, he was just hoping to have someone on his side to fight for his beliefs in personal space and public displays of affection. _Especially _between two guys.

Tsuyoshi looked at the both of them and cleared his throat. "Well, I have to go and prepare for the kendo class. Takeshi, I'll call for you in a little while."

_Don't leave me alone with this psycho, old man! _

"Haha, okay dad. I'll be there after I've had my shower."

Tsuyoshi took off his apron and hung it up behind the counter. He waved a hand at them as he left through the other side of the restaurant. "No rush, Takeshi. Take care of my son, Gokudera-kun!" he called.

If Hayato had to guess, the old man was definitely setting him up. That bastard.

"Haha, I hope that wasn't too weird. Sorry I wasn't back in time," Yamamoto said, releasing him.

Hayato stared into his tea mug. "It's fine," he said. "But I should really go home. I've got a lot of work to do."

Yamamoto pulled up a stool and sat in front of Hayato who sat sideways on his own chair. He put a leg on the bottom of the stool, in between Hayato's. "You're not going to work on that case still, are you?" He looked at him with worried eyes.

"Of course I am," Hayato spat. "There's a serial killer on the loose and I can't expect everyone else to figure him out!"

Yamamoto reached out and cupped Hayato's cheek. "But... you were shot, you could have died. And don't you listen to your boss? What if they revoke your badge?"

"Che," Hayato hissed, turning his fave away from Yamamoto's hand. "My boss is under the influence of a fucking sly bastard. Something isn't right about him. I have to figure it out before he does something."

Yamamoto raised his eyebrows. "Who? Who is this guy?"

"Rokudo Mukuro," Hayato growled through clenched teeth. Even saying his name made him furious. "He's a bureau agent from Tokyo brought in on this case. He's a fucking slippery bastard. He was having me followed. He told the Tenth about me and you and convinced him to take me off the case. He's up to something. I _know _it."

Yamamoto looked at him for a long time. Finally he grabbed Hayato's hands in his and squeezed. "Will you promise to be careful?"

Hayato scoffed. "I don't make promises I can't keep, idiot."

Yamamoto laughed halfheartedly. "Yeah, didn't think you would. Let me help you then?"

Hayato eyed him incredulously. "No. Absolutely not. It's too dangerous and you'll just slow me down."

"Is Gokudera worried about me?"

"Ha! As if. I don't need your dead body adding to the pile of others following me. Especially after your father tells me I'm your saviour," Hayato said mockingly, rolling his eyes.

Yamamoto's smile spread so wide, his eyes crinkled at the corners. "He said that?"

"Yeah, he's an idiot like you,"

Yamamoto leaned in close and pressed his lips on Hayato's. They were warm and soft, and Hayato felt himself melting. "You are my saviour," he whispered against them.

Hayato felt that flutter return to his stomach and he wrapped his arms around Yamamoto's neck, cupping the back of his head in his hands and kissed him deeply. Fuck inhibitions, this felt too good to not give in to.

When Yamamoto broke away he grinned devilishly. "Shower?"

"What? No, your dad is here! Are you crazy?"

"He's busy. C'mon, we'll reserve water this way." He grinned wide.

"You're an idiot."

"Hm? What kind of idiot?" Yamamoto asked, teasingly nipping at Hayato's lip.

"A very sexy idiot," Hayato growled, closing his mouth over Yamamoto's.

"Yeah? I guess that's a good thing?"

"Mhm." Hayato ran his tongue along the seam of Yamamoto's lip. "A very convincing idiot too."

Yamamoto chuckled. "So, shower then?"

"Mhm."

Yamamoto stood and pulled Hayato up with him, crushing him tightly against his chest and locked their lips. They stumbled their way through the house, shedding their clothes along the way. They crashed into the bathroom and Hayato felt dizzy from the lack of oxygen and blood to his brain.

Yamamoto pulled away to turn on the shower head and they made their way into the spray of hot water, and it dispersed furiously off his back when Hayato pushed him against the wall. His hands mapped Yamamoto's body, caressing his pecks, ghosting over his beveled abdomen and down to his cock where he took it in his hand with a firm grip and started pumping. Yamamoto hit his head off the tile and groaned, fisting clumps of Hayato's wet hair.

Hayato moved down his body and fell to his knees, slipping his mouth over his cock. He moaned and pushed Hayato's head down, using his hair like handlebars to guide him. Hayato pushed his hips back to keep him from thrusting into his mouth as the water pelted his head and face.

He ran his hand down Yamamoto's thigh and under, cupping his ass cheek before sliding two fingers in. Yamamoto cried out at the intrusion but Hayato was gentle, doing enough to just prepare him before his slid his mouth off Yamamoto's cock and stood. He pulled Hayato into a needy kiss and when Hayato was satisfied, he withdrew his fingers and turned Yamamoto over. He bent over and braced himself against the tiled wall while Hayato lined up against him, pushing in slow and tentatively. His cock went in smooth and with ease, already slick with the water that streamed down Yamamoto's spine to his tail bone in rivets. He groaned with each inch he moved in, Yamamoto's tight muscle clenching hard and squeezing his dick.

Hayato ran his hand up Yamamoto's back and he gripped his shoulder, nudging in further. "Relax, Takeshi," he coaxed and Hayato felt a little release in the pressure around his cock and he finally thrust in all the way. He heard Yamamoto whine and he began to move, his rhythm slow and steady. Hayato dropped his hand from his shoulder to his hip and gripped them both as he rocked up into Yamamoto's tight ass. The water felt tranquil on his skin, the heat from it matching the fire burning in his groin. He reached around and grabbed Yamamoto's straining cock and twisted his wrist up in long, steady strokes.

Yamamoto called out his name, panting and moaning and telling him how good it felt to have him inside him. Hayato barely heard these over the rushing sound of the shower water and his heart pounding in his ears. Hayato thrust harder and faster and he hit that spot that made Yamamoto scream, "Aah, there!" So Hayato fucked him deeper; in quick and sharp thrusts, his hips slapping hard against Yamamoto's ass. He called him by name and reminded him how good it felt to be inside _him,_ so hot and tight.

It didn't take long for Yamamoto to come and when he did, Hayato ran a hand up his chest and over his throat, splaying his fingers over his jaw and chin. Yamamoto bent his head down and coaxed two fingers into his mouth with his tongue and sucked them for a while. He moaned hard when Hayato hit his prostate again, and his fingers dropped from his mouth. Hayato let them linger on his lips.

"Come inside me, Hayato," he groaned. "Fuck me _hard _and come."

And the weightless sensation washed over him again as he rammed in hard just a few more times before he came apart, reeling as his climax imploded and blurred his vision. "F-fuck... Takeshi."

He teetered and nearly fell back but he dropped his hand quickly to Yamamoto's hip and dug his fingers in, gripping both hips tightly. A combination of his crash and the steam from the shower had him feeling lightheaded and seeing stars. As his adrenaline ceased but the dizziness remained, jolts of sharp searing pain shot up his injured leg and he wasn't able to steady himself. Yamamoto turned and caught him before he fell back, bracing himself with an iron grip on the ledge of the tub. He eased Hayato down into a sitting position and pushed his hair out of his face.

"Gokudera? Gokudera, are you alright?"

Hayato had to make sure the room stopped spinning before he opened his mouth to speak because now he was pretty sure the heat was getting to him and he felt nauseous. He nodded slowly, trying to draw in deep breaths but all that entered his lungs was hot air.

"Okay, hold on. I'm gonna wash your hair and we'll get out, okay?"

Hayato nodded again and before he knew it there were long fingers massaging his scalp and the scent of fresh, invigorating soap that Yamamoto always smelled like. The kneading on his scalp helped relax him a bit but the nausea didn't pass, even when Yamamoto adjusted the temperature of the water to lukewarm and rinsed off his hair and body. His hands left him and Hayato tried to steady his breathing. He kept his eyes shut and sucked in the damp air and it did nothing for his lungs. Then the water shut off and hands were back on him again, this time cupping his face.

"Hayato, I'm going to take you to bed. You need to rest a little, okay?"

Hayato didn't argue, he just nodded. The pain in his leg was unbearable and he could feel the tightening of his calf muscles, threatening a cramp.

"I'm gonna try lifting you up. Put all your weight on me, okay?"

Hayato nodded and he felt Yamamoto's strong arms hook under his and he pushed himself up using all the strength he could muster in his left leg. Yamamoto practically carried him out of the tub and to his bedroom and had Hayato not been in such immense pain, he'd be mortified that he was haphazardly carried and naked through a stranger's house and put to bed by another man.

The cold air shocked his skin, dripping wet still from the shower. He began to shiver uncontrollably and Yamamoto slipped under the sheets and wrapped his body around Hayato's. He kissed the edge of his shoulder.

"Hayato, do you need anything? Water? Tea? More blankets?" asked Yamamoto worriedly.

The nausea began to subside and Hayato felt himself relaxing, despite the chill he now felt causing his body to wrack with shudders. Though the heat Yamamoto's body was slowly thawing him out, his warmth starting to envelope him and sleep began to overtake him. He pressed into Yamamoto and Yamamoto's arms held him tighter and he felt himself drifting off but before he did, he answered.

"No... all I need is you."

* * *

**Author's Note :**

I can't stop the fluff and smut between these guys, haaalp. I need to get back to the plot of the story xD

But I'm sure none of you mind, ne?

Thanks to my gorgeous waifu for her help with this chapter, your ideas are amazing and so are your break downs. I love you! xox Thanks to Nico (my adoptive daughter xD ) and Bernie (the evil cutie) who help me with my meltdowns! You guys are super awesome.

And lastly, thanks to all my 8059 girls (Haya-chan and Lo-chan) and everyone else following this story. You are all amazing xo.


	16. Book I : My Saint : Chapter XVI

_**Chapter XVI**_

* * *

"So, Hayato... I've been thinking... "

"Stop the presses," Hayato muttered with an eye roll.

"Haha, I get it! It's because I'm a journalist, isn't it?"

Hayato looked over at Yamamoto, who sat in the driver's seat of his car and smirked. "Nope, you're just stupid."

Yamamoto laughed. "Okay, but seriously, I've been thinking."

"Alright... As dangerous as that sounds, I'll hear you out."

"Haha, stop interrupting me so I can tell you!"

"Sorry, you make it too easy," Hayato said, laughing.

They locked eyes for a minute before Hayato realized he'd been laughing. He clamped his mouth shut and turned to look out the car window, heat creeping across his cheeks. They had just turned onto his street, the pools of amber glow from the street lamps still lighting the road. It was early morning the following day and Yamamoto needed to work and Hayato really wanted to go home, even if Bianchi was there to torture him.

"I can feel your eyes burning a hole through my flesh," Hayato commented. "What are you staring at?"

"Haha... I was just thinking I really like it when Gokudera laughs. He has a great smile and looks even more beautiful when he's happy."

"Tch... you always have to say weird things and I really hate it," he grumbled.

Yamamoto squeezed his thigh and laughed. "You're just not used to it. I like Gokudera and I will tell him how I feel, always."

Hayato let out a sigh. "There's no point in convincing an idiot."

"Haha, right. There isn't. So just suck it up and get used to it already. Let me spoil you."

"Che! I'm not some fucking princess that needs pampering, you bastard. Ugh, just stop talking already, you're so embarrassing."

The heat in his face burned his skin and his heart raced. It was too much, too much for him to _ever _get used to. Hayato knew that he wasn't probably ever going to commit to this person, he didn't commit to anyone that could potentially hurt him. The only person had been Tsuna, and he committed to him for a whole different reason.

He had allowed Yamamoto to think they were in some kind of relationship, though Hayato would never put a label on it except to say that it is an extensive one night stand and nothing more. He liked the sex, he couldn't deny that he got some guilty pleasure out of the carnal way Yamamoto could go dark and serious, cold and possessive. It was crazy_, he _was crazy but Hayato was beginning to think that he was really fucked up too. Had it not been for the jarring realization that he was about to lose total control and let someone touch him in a way he would have nothing of, he probably would have completely succumbed to Yamamoto and that didn't bode well with him.

Suffice it to say that he was conflicted and that didn't bode well with him either.

They pulled up to his house and Hayato grasped Yamamoto's hand and squeezed. "Oi, weren't you going to tell me something, or did you forget?"

Yamamoto put his car in park and took off his seatbelt to face him. "Yeah, actually I did, haha. I got distracted by Gokudera's cute laugh."

"Get to the point, bastard."

"Haha, okay okay. This Rokudo Mukuro guy, you said there's something fishy about him, right?"

"Yeah?"

"Well, you were suspended so you can't learn anything else about the case of have access to police files, right?"

"Yes, idiot," Hayato hissed, beginning to get annoyed. He took so long to explain things. "Get to the point."

"Well, I'm a reporter. I have access to a lot of contacts with good information. I can help you with the case, Hayato. I can get as much information as you need."

Hayato worked his jaw, chewed his bottom lip and considered the suggestion for a moment. He didn't want to get Yamamoto involved but it was the logical choice. He would be in need of valuable information and he himself wouldn't be able to get at it, so using Yamamoto would be the next best thing.

"What could you possibly get that I wouldn't already know? The department won't leak important details to the press."

"I remembered this morning I have a friend from middle school, Irie Shōichi, that is awesome with all that computer stuff. He can hack into the bureau's thingy and find information on Rokudo Mukuro for you. Can I at least help with that?"

Hayato chose to disregard Yamamoto's lack of intelligent vocabulary. "That is probably the most brilliant thing I've heard you say in all the time I've known you," Hayato said, feeling a little excited. "Don't take that as a compliment, by the way."

"Haha, really? You'll let me help then?" Yamamoto's face lit up.

"Yeah, okay. But _only _with the information. We have to be careful about this."

Yamamoto nodded.

"Alright then, I'm going to buy a disposable cell later and give you the number. Call me when you get something. From a pay phone, not from your cell. I don't want to leave any traces or chance the phones being bugged."

Yamamoto whistled. "Gokudera sure is paranoid."

"Idiot!" Hayato growled. "Of course I am! This is some serious shit, so take it seriously okay?!"

Yamamoto raised his hands in defense and let out a laugh. "I will, I will!"

"Good. I'm going inside now." Hayato moved to open the car door.

"'Dera wait- I don't think you should be running around and tiring yourself out. You had a fever yesterday and your leg is all messed up. Let me take care of you."

Yesterday morning, after Hayato had the most perplexing and somewhat terrifying moment of his life; after the conversation with Tsuyoshi and ending the really messed up, strangely odd and kind of eventful morning with the most amazing, mind numbing shower sex he's ever had (the only shower sex he's ever had, there's a first time for everything and apparently he's chosen to share them with the multiple personalities of Yamamoto Takeshi), he had gotten a fever but Hayato seemed to be fine now.

Yamamoto had stayed with him, annoyingly tending to him like a mother hen. It pissed him off but he couldn't deny he enjoyed the attention but only because it was from that man. He didn't see that dark side of Yamamoto again that day, though he didn't see much if anything because he slept a lot. But every time he opened his eyes, Yamamoto was there. Hugging into him or bringing him soup and water and tea or stroking his hair and humming. His fingers had felt good massaging his scalp and tracing lines gently on his face.

Hayato had never experienced such gestures. He thought of Yamamoto running his fingers through his hair and humming softly in his ear was something akin to a mother's touch when their child was ill. It made him yearn for a mother that he had long since grieved the loss of yet Hayato had closed his eyes and reveled in that moment. He could feel something changing inside him, and no he didn't quite like it, he didn't want to accept it because the last time he had opened his heart and loved, the last time he was truly happy was when his mother was alive and he had felt all the love in the world; the only love he'd ever need coming from that one angelic person that taught him to play the piano. Often left alone and never feeling the love a child should feel from a parent, Hayato had held this woman's affection very close to his heart because he could _feel_ her love in every fiber of his being.

And now, Hayato had thought, maybe he had found that same feeling in someone else. Not the same kind of love, but something very similar. A feeling that warmed him, spread out through every part of him and filled him up. Filled up all the little lonely bits that still lingered within, despite his attempts of trying to feel whole. Despite the façade he had on every moment of every day so that he wouldn't have to feel empty or vulnerable. So he didn't have to feel like eight year old Luciano Filippi.

Still, he couldn't just let Yamamoto have all of him just yet. He was still a smart and calculated man, he was still suspicious and guarded and hard around the edges; the product of being reared on the back alley streets of Palermo where he was chewed up and spit back out by every family that rejected him for who he was only to make him stronger. To make him part of who the man he was today.

Thus, he was still conflicted and it really, _really _didn't sit well with him at all. His growing impatience threatened an explosion of anger directed at the reporter for making him feel this way.

Now that he wasn't ill, he had a clearer mind which made it easier to process the logic away from the feelings and Yamamoto's preening was starting to get on his nerves.

"I will be _fine,_" he said through gritted teeth. "And will you stop calling me that?"

Yamamoto frowned and furrowed his brow. "I'm just worried about you."

"You worry an awful lot for someone who shouldn't think much," Hayato rebuked sourly. "You might hurt yourself."

Yamamoto frowned deeper. "You nearly fainted yesterday and spent the whole day in bed. Should you go to a doctor? Are you sure you don't want me to stay with you?"

Hayato sighed and put his head in his hands. "Listen, you bastard. I can take care of my fucking self. You need to stop being so fucking clingy, it's _suffocating_," he hissed, emphasizing by grasping his chest. "Ugh."

Yamamoto fell silent. "Okay," he finally said quietly. He leaned towards Hayato and cupped his cheek in an attempt to bring his face closer to his.

Hayato jerked back instantly and growled. "D-don't, you idiot! There are people watching us! It's bad enough you're dropping me off! I should have taken a cab..."

"'Dera... "

"Don't call me that."

"When will I see you again? I've spent all my time with Gokudera lately and I won't know what to do with myself."

"Are you seriously asking me that?" Heat flared through his face once more and he suppressed the urge to wrap his hands around Yamamoto's neck and shake him violently. Hadn't they just been through this whole clingy equals suffocation conversation?

Yamamoto frowned and looked at Hayato with sad, pleading eyes. That same look that had Hayato convinced Yamamoto was part canine, stupidly giddy and over excited when given attention then pouting and pawing with their tails between their legs when they had been scolded for doing something wrong. It always struck a painful chord in his heartstrings whenever he saw it but he refused to believe that it had anything to do with that idiot. If he kept telling himself it was because he thought of him as a dumb and helpless animal, it'd eventually have reason, right?

Sighing exasperatingly, Hayato reached over and poked him in the corner of his mouth. Yamamoto stilled and Hayato traced his finger over his lips and down to the bottom of his chin. "Don't make that face, it doesn't suit you." He leaned over and pressed his lips to Yamamoto's, quickly because he knew that for him just a peck wouldn't be good enough. Kissing Yamamoto was like the first line of blow you snorted, the first dose of heroin injected into your blood stream... once you felt that tingling and surging rush course through your veins and into your brain, you couldn't get enough. No matter the amount, Hayato felt like he had to keep chasing that high he got from those lips and that was never a good thing. Too much of something is _never _a good thing. Because enough was never enough for Hayato.

Yamamoto whined when his lips left too soon and Hayato gave his hand a reassuring squeeze, feeling the flutter dissipate and his heart slow.

"I'll call you soon. You have to go to work and act normal. Don't talk to anyone you don't know, especially about me or the case. Got it?"

Yamamoto nodded, forcing a half smile. "Be careful, okay?"

"You too." Hayato gave his hand one more squeeze, wanting to lean in again and smash his lips against those smooth and full lips that belonged to the most alluring man he's ever met but he couldn't, for several reasons more than just the obvious ones. Instead, he opened the car door and struggled to get out but he did it on his own, warning Yamamoto before hand not to help. He grabbed his crutches and bag from the back seat and looked into the rearview mirror where he met Yamamoto's worried gaze.

"I'll be okay," he assured and shut the door without saying goodbye or looking back.

It was a short walk to his front door and once he got to it he heard Yamamoto drive away. He felt an uneasiness that sat heavily in his stomach, tense and anxious and he wasn't sure if it was because he was about to face Bianchi or if something about Yamamoto just didn't seem right. He wasn't sure if it were his sudden silence and somber mood or something else entirely but there was definitely something other than worry he had seen in those eyes. A look he hadn't seen before.

He opened his door and hobbled through the foyer. When he walked into his living room he was stopped dead in his tracks.

Bianchi sat on his couch in a long and sleeveless plum coloured dress, hair falling in curls over her shoulders. She was leaned back against the sofa, magazine in hand while a long leg draped over the other, pale skin revealed by the thigh high slit in her dress. One black stiletto rolled leisurely in circular motions and the other was planted firmly into a man's back.

"S-sis! What the hell?!"

The man didn't move and Hayato couldn't see who it was under her foot. She didn't look up from her magazine. "Oh, you're home, selfish brother of mine."

"Who the fuck is that?! And wait, what? How am I selfish?"

"You left your dear sister to worry about you. You should be ashamed of yourself," she said coldly, flipping through the magazine.

Hayato inched closer into his living room, ignoring her chiding. He sort of half gasped, half choked when he saw the all too familiar mass of dark brown hair connected to an all too familiar body under his sister's heeled foot. "Sha... Shamal! What the hell, Bianchi?!"

"You're lucky this isn't that Yamamoto Takeshi," she remarked sourly, tossing her magazine to the side. "How rude of he, coming into our home-"

"_My _home," Hayato angrily corrected.

"And to not tell me what happened or where you were and then told me I couldn't see you!"

Hayato's stomach had dropped a bit when he thought of Yamamoto being the one prone under his sister's foot instead of his perverted uncle. "I told him not to say anything to you. He was only supposed to come here and get clothes and I _know _he wasn't as rude as you're making him out to be. But in all seriousness, is Yamamoto _really _the issue here? Because I think you need to tell me what the _f__uck _Shamal is doing under your foot and more importantly, what he's doing here - in my house. In _Japan._"

"He came here to bother us," she said simply.

Hayato snorted. "I'm sure there's a better reason than that. What did you do to him?"

Bianchi shrugged and crossing her arms over her chest, cupping her elbows. "I gave him a tranquilizer. He wouldn't stop coming on to me, the bastard. You'd think he would have learned by now. He'll be lucid in a few minutes or so."

Hayato felt a little relief though he was beyond pissed off and he made his way into the living room to sit down in his leather armchair.

"Hayato, you had me really frightened. Why didn't you at least call me to tell me you were okay? And what kind of stuff have you gotten yourself into?"

Hayato settled into the armchair, pulled out a fresh pack and lit a cigarette. He took a drag and savored the smoke before letting it out in a long exhale. It had been almost three weeks since he had a cigarette and by all means, he should quit. Except smoking is one of the few things Hayato enjoys and during his stay in the hospital, he hadn't been able to smoke at all and Yamamoto refused to let him smoke in the car and he wasn't disrespectful enough to do it in his father's home. Finally being in the comfort of his own home, in his favorite chair, it seemed the best time to light one up.

"It was just a shooting. Cops get shot occasionally in the line of duty, you know," he said, taking another drag.

"Hayato, I've been following the story in the news. You were shot by the yakuza. And the man that shot you is dead."

Hayato looked over at her as she flicked her long wine coloured hair over her shoulder. "So he succumbed to his injuries then... I wasn't informed."

"No, brother. He was _murdered_ in the hospital. The police have told the press nothing of his cause of death so they've concluded that he was killed by his gang to keep him quiet. If they're willing to kill their own member, won't they be coming for you next?"

"I doubt it. Murdered huh... Has that been the only murder so far? Any more word on this Headless Samurai guy?"

"Shouldn't you know?"

"No... I've been removed from the case and suspended after my little run in with the yakuza thugs."

"Did _that guy," _she said it with disgust, "at least take care of you?"

"Yes, he was fine. Annoying but fine. And don't breathe a word of that or him when Shamal wakes up. Not a single word," Hayato stressed.

As if on cue, Shamal stirred under Bianchi's foot. He groaned and murmured something thick and lethargic.

"Bianchi... let the old pervert up," Hayato said, leaning forward to crush the cigarette out in the ashtray.

Bianchi lifted his foot and nudged it under Shamal's body, rolling him haphazardly on his side. He groaned again and blinked, rubbed his eyes and clutched his head.

"What a cruel woman," Shamal muttered.

"Serves you right, you bastard. What the hell are you doing in my house?" Hayato asked peering down at him.

"Oh, it's you brat."

"Well of course it's me, what the fuck. You're in _my _house."

Shamal sat up and groggily rubbed his temples. He looked over at Bianchi who glared at him. "Still beautiful as ever," he commented with a lopsided grin.

"Ugh, you disgust me old man," Bianchi spat, digging her heel into his hand.

Shamal yelped and pulled his hand away, laughing. "Is that anyway to talk to your uncle?"

"Che, you're not even related by blood and if you had been, I'd be asking you, you sick fucking pervert, if that was anyway to talk to your niece. Still, it's disgusting. You've known us since birth." Hayato leered at him, waiting for a snide retort from the doctor.

Shamal was not in fact, related by blood to the siblings like Hayato had stated. He was their god father, true to the name, appointed Guardian to Hayato and Bianchi in their Catholic faith (to which Hayato no longer practices and the only piece of him that recognizes that faith is the rosary he wears around his neck always) and the appointed consigliere to his father.

During the time of Hayato's childhood, his father was the underboss for the Don of the Cappa family. In order to be in such high ranks in this family, one must have the original blood lineage of the Cappa. A _capo famiglia_ or _capo bastone_ cannot be brought in from another famiglia, not without the original family's heritage.

Hayato's father was a Cappa on his mother's side, daughter of the seventh generation underboss. Because she was a woman, she was never expected to take over and but her younger brother did when their father died of an unexpected illness. She married the Cappa Family's right hand, which was Hayato's grandfather, Antonio Filippi. Her brother was later killed by a rival war between families and that left her son, Hayato's father, an open position in the higher ranks. Being raised from the very beginning with prospects of one day becoming part of the family, Hayato's father had a lot of preparation and by the time he took over the position of _capo bastone _for the eighth generation at age seventeen, he had already become one of the most cold and ruthless men to have power in all of Italy's underworld.

Shamal grew up in the mafia too, part of the Cappa Famiglia. His father was a foot soldier and had been close with the Filippi family. They had children around the same age, Hayato's father and Shamal. They grew up together and spent most of their time together, as much time as Hayato's grandfather would allow. While Antonio Filippi was raising a prospect, Shamal's father was less inclined, less devoted to the mafia and when Shamal chose the path of a doctor and _not _the mafia, his father didn't argue. Shamal had already been corrupted by the mafia, found the money and women to be very alluring and despite choosing a different path, he ended up working as an associate to the Cappa Famiglia, a free lance doctor that would never treat a man if the price wasn't right. And that _always _included a woman or two. Or three and four. It made working with Shamal difficult and he was expensive and finicky but he was brilliant and no one could deny that, no one could disregard his skills.

That had changed when Hayato was thirteen and he learned the boss of the Cappa family had passed on, leaving the position for Hayato's father to take over.

His father was a ruthless man, a very strong and powerful underboss who was feared among most families, even within their own. He was greedy and sought out wealth and power and was rewarded when the eighth generation boss had kicked the bucket. Rising to the occasion, many things about the Cappa family had changed, they became more powerful and feared despite the fact that though his father had appointed Shamal his _consigliere. _

Because his before title of just a _sodalto_. Shamal was just a wiseguy, an associate. It was a joke that someone like Hayato's father would appoint a man like Shamal as his right hand, someone who lacked so much responsibility and had absolutely no morals at all. People began to suspect he'd fail as the new Don of the Cappa family, chosing the favoritism of his best friend over what was best for the family, but he proved them wrong. His father's new family had only Shamal as his trusted advisor and though Shamal never wanted to be part of the mafia before, his need for the finer things and the women that came with the title essentially made him agree to the position. The two made an amazing powerhouse together and steadily ruled over the underworld, absorbing any good quality family that wanted to join them and destroying anyone who didn't.

Shamal was a pervert by nature, very slick and suave yet disgusting to an extent that Hayato most certainly despised. Still, when it came down to it, Shamal was a force to be reckoned with when he got serious and had techniques that he created that could kill a man in less than five seconds without the use of a gun or sword. He was effective and dangerous, there was no man like Shamal in the mafia world and that's what earned him respect, despite his nonchalant and disgustingly slimy attitude.

"Hayato, I remember when your prick was no bigger than the tip of my pinky and though I doubt it's grown much bigger than that, you still aren't man enough to talk to me like that, haha. Give me a cigarette."

"I can lace it with some poison, if you'd like, brother. He's already getting on my nerves," Bianchi said, standing up.

Shamal licked his lips and tried to peer under Bianchi's dress as she stood, which earned him a kick to the ribs and a smack to the head, courtesy of both siblings.

"Ow," Shamal whined.

"Oi, watch where those droopy eyes ogle. Don't look at her like that, show some respect. Pervert." Hayato rolled his eyes and handed Shamal a cigarette.

"Oh brother, when you talk like that I get really excited," Bianchi said in her usual seductive tone.

Hayato pointed his fingers that held his newly lit cigarette at Bianchi accusingly. "You show some respect too, asshole. Stop talking like that, I'm your brother and it's gross."

Shamal leaned back against the sofa, still sitting on the floor and lit his cigarette. "You both are just as fucked up as always," he said dejectedly.

Bianchi ignored him and sashayed her way to the kitchen. With her gone, Hayato was hopeful that he could get the doctor to focus long enough to tell him why he was here.

"Shamal, what are you doing here? Haven't I told you not to come here? I don't need people knowing my ties to the mafia and you aren't a quiet presence." He called for Bianchi to make him some coffee. She came back with a sarcastic remark but he heard the sound of rushing water and smelled the intoxicating aroma of fresh ground Columbian coffee as it percolated.

Shamal took a long drag of his cigarette and turned serious. "The Bovino family is after your sister and they're out for blood."

"I know, Bianchi already told me."

"She doesn't know the severity of it yet. There is a large price on her head and your father can't kill the men gunning for her fast enough."

Hayato snorted. "That useless bastard doesn't surprise me."

"Hayato, I know your anger towards your father is still intense, even if it's childish in my opinion, but you _will _respect him in my presence."

Hayato glared at the doctor he thought would always be on his side. He'd hate to admit it, but he had always seen Shamal as a father figure, more so than his old man. It was Shamal who had taught him things; how to use explosives; Shamal that spent his time playing with him when Hayato had no one else. It was Shamal that had saved his life.

After Hayato left home, he was always on the run, never able to stay in one spot for too long for fear of his father's men finding him. He was the prodigious son, heir to the Cappa throne if his father was successful in taking over and he was determined to take Hayato back. It wasn't because he loved him. Let's face it, after his mother was murdered his father was even colder, more distant. _Luciano,_ he would say whenever Hayato would plead for his attention. _Luciano, go away. I can't stand the sight of you. You remind me of all the failures in my life._

Hayato was an embarrassment, small and frail, pale skin with silver hair and had a tell tale almond shape to his eyes. Only slightly, but enough to be noticed by other people that he wasn't full blooded Italian. That he wasn't a full blooded _Cappa_. That he was a bastard child.

His features were prominent and his eyes were bright green and his father's associates used to joke of how Hayato's beauty rivaled his sister's. His father told him how much he hated that Hayato looked like his mother after she died and Hayato never understood why, because he looked nothing like his mother who had long auburn coloured hair and dark brown eyes, round and angry and nothing like his own. And at that time, he never knew why but when he found out who his mother really was, it all made sense.

Hayato's father had wanted him home because he had enough of people laughing about the obviously different and childish pretty boy who ran away from home. It was because Hayato's impudence was shameful and if his father couldn't control his own son, how could he control the Cappa family?

He slept on the streets of Sicily, panhandled for the maybe one meal a day and started fights with any gangs he ran into. This usually left him immobile for weeks at a time to nurse his broken body back to functionality after he got the shit beat out of him. He was a kid with a lot of pent up angst, he couldn't feel anything but anger and the adrenaline rush he got from fighting made him feel good, made him feel _something_.

After two years on the streets, Hayato had already began to make a name for himself, though it wasn't the one he wanted. He eventually became a part of a gang that offered him a thin, flat mattress and left over scraps from the restaurant they used as a cover for their money laundering and weapons business in exchange for his services. These usually entailed thievery and pushing cocaine on the rough corners of downtown Palermo. After proving himself loyal and quite a fierce force to be reckoned with at his young age, Hayato was promoted to shaking down people that owed the gang money and when they didn't pay up, Hayato used the skills Shamal had taught him to blow up buildings and businesses and homes for collateral.

It wasn't long before he was kicked out of that gang though, because though he was good at what he did, his reckless nothing-to-lose behavior and flashy choice of weapon were too much of a liability.

By then he had already earned the name Smokin' Bomb Hayato or sometimes it was Hurricane Bomb Hayato but either or, he had made a name for himself. He also decided he wanted revenge, revenge on his bastard father for what he did to his mother, did to his life.

He was a thin and dirty brat with shaggy silver hair and a real bad temper. People were afraid of him, afraid of his name but it wasn't enough because no mafia family wanted him, not even the bad ones. He was different, an outcast and of obvious Oriental decent. He was too beautifully fair, even when he looked ragged and dirty with knotty silver hair that hung down to his chin in sharp clumps. He didn't _look _like a mobster no matter how hard he tried with his rings and spiked bracelets, ripped and torn jeans with his calf high Doc Martens, or the tangle of chains, thick belts with large buckles or that hard look on his face; that permanent scowl. It was never enough to get rid of his image. The Filippi pretty boy, pianist not mobster, not a full blooded Italian. Not good enough for anyone. He was too out of control, never listened to authority and refused to work with anyone on anything. The mafia families saw him as a threat and a hindrance and eventually started putting hits out on his life.

He had just turned twelve when the first attempt on his life had been made and Hayato barely managed to escape the slew of gunfire in his direction. He was only given that sliver of chance because growing up on the streets and working with dirty gangs that were wannabe mafia had taught him how to be sharply aware of his surroundings. Everything Hayato knew and was capable of he had taught himself and that made him a proud and cocky brat.

He was nearly thirteen when fate had caught up to him and he had been shot fatally. Bleeding to death in a back alley surrounded by used needles, dirty rats and his deathbed being a pile of garbage bags, he vowed that if by some miracle he got to come back as someone else one day, this time he'd do right. This time he'd be loved and not born into a world full of hate and rules and judgment. Where no laws applied. That he would be the one to make sure syndicates like the mafia would never exist so that no one would ever have to grow up the way he did.

He prayed for that miracle and he was answered in the form of a perverted old man, his "uncle" Shamal.

When Hayato awoke he had been surprised that he wasn't back at his father's castle but in a run down apartment on a back alley street deep in Palermo. Shamal had operated, treated him and took care of him, never once telling his father where he was but always reminding Hayato he'd better be grateful because he didn't treat men, especially little brats with a death wish.

Hayato refused to owe anyone anything and he asked Shamal what he could do to repay him. Shamal offered Hayato a place to stay and free meals in exchange for him simply being Shamal's errand boy.

Hesitant to take the charity but couldn't deny that he was tired, so tired of running and this life, he agreed.

Life with Shamal was annoying, annoying enough to sometimes wish he had died back in that alley. He was often kicked out of the apartment when Shamal brought women there, or sometimes Shamal would forget and not care that Hayato was in the same room while he fucked his call girls and prostitutes when he wasn't working for his father. Nights like that Hayato would cover his ears with his hands and curse himself to sleep. Occasionally he'd be woken up by these women trying to undo his belts or tug off his pants, high and drunk and desperate. Hayato had lost count of the women that nearly violated him while he slept, lost track of the amount of women Shamal had brought home that year. His last remembered total had been over a hundred and three. And he remembered that Shamal told him that sex was a very powerful thing, a method to use to get what you wanted and that it came in several different forms. That women were bargaining chips, stress relievers (but never stress causers- if you fucked them properly because then they knew their place) or a way to make you feel something even when you didn't want to feel anything. Sex was key; a tool Shamal used to get what he wanted, satisfy his needs and take out his anger and stress.

He told Hayatp he needed to fuck, not fight to get rid of his pain. To feel better about himself. And even though Hayato was mostly disturbed and disgusted by the old man, he idolized Shamal. He was charming, he had finesse and he was suave when he needed to be and Hayato witnessed several times his ability to negotiate through sex, bring these women to their knees (because not all were call girls or prostitutes, some were rival family too) and have them eating out of the palm of his hand.

It made a switch go off in Hayato's mind, but somewhere along the lines it had short fused, because Hayato was sure he never quite got it right. He tried, mostly because he wanted to find some other release for his anger so that he didn't end up with broken bones and welts and bruises. Except nothing worked. The women Shamal brought home did nothing for him except often leave him feeling disgusted with himself. He could never get into it, and nothing came from fucking those women. Except for the realization that women weren't his thing, he needed that adrenaline rush that came from the flight or fight response. He craved the rush he got from the nitroglycerin and gunpowder he had in his explosives, the satisfying crackle of a lit fuse on a stick of dynamite, the resounding explosions that rang in your ears when they finally went off. And finally, he realized he only had one thing on his mind. While most teenage boys would jump at the chance to fuck women older than themselves; drink and do drugs and act like an adult, Hayato wanted one thing.

And that was to kill his father, take over as Don and bring the entire mafia world down with him. Maybe it might have been a bit ambitious for a boy of thirteen, but what cocky little brat didn't have aspirations way too big for their age, especially when Hayato's ego fit the bill.

He became to hate living there but it was tolerable and Hayato never forgot his objective. He was determined to continue to rise up, despite the constant knock downs and gain enough power to take on his father and blow everything he stood for into a crumbling pile of ash at his feet.

Shamal tried to ground him, tried to pop Hayato's egotistical bubble by any means necessary. He supplied Gokudera with cigarettes and alcohol against his better judgment and he would beat the shit out of him when Hayato would return home after doing something life threatening and reckless.

But when he learned that his father was to become Don of the Cappa Famiglia and that Shamal was to become his consigliere, all that shattered and left him with no hope. Shamal demanded he go back to his father and become part of the family, where he belonged. Enough with the games and playing mafia, enough with the self destruction and the torment. Hayato had proven himself worthy of his father, his name was well known on the streets. it didn't matter that his feared reputation went hand in hand with his pretty boy reputation because his father would accept him back into the family. All he had to do was go home. Naturally, Hayato refused and when he saw the loyalty Shamal had for his father, Hayato knew there was no way he'd ever be able to go against him. Maybe he had bitten off more than he could chew and this lifestyle wasn't for him. The mafia wasn't for him. He didn't need to belong here, he was wanted for all the wrong reasons and somewhere in the back of his mind, he held Shamal in high regards and he'd never disrespect him by tarnishing his role as a right hand man. Hayato would never make him choose between his loyalty and himself. Hayato would never shame the man that saved his life and had taught him many things. So he made a decision. It was hard but, determined to never be part of this life he hated and to not stain Shamal's reputation, he left Italy just before his fourteenth birthday.

Now it seemed that since he had become his father's right hand man, Shamal was no longer on Hayato's side. The loyalty that lay there was strong, stronger than most because he wasn't just a right hand man. He was also his father's best friend, childhood best friend and Hayato understood the bond, but it didn't make him feel any less hatred towards the man right now. Didn't make him feel any less betrayed. And yes, Hayato knew that kind if thinking was childish, but it stung nevertheless. People were always discarding him, he should have a thick skin by now but Hayato never really had developed one. He just put on the façade that said he did.

"Che... whatever, Shamal. Just get to the fucking point."

"They found out where she is. They're sending some foot soldiers to Japan as we speak."

Hayato nearly choked on the smoke he had inhaled. "Are... are you fucking kidding me? Shamal, I'm a fucking officer of the _law!_ I can't have mafia goons storming in on my home turf and making a mess of my already fucked up life! Take her back home!"

Shamal sighed. "I can't do that. Your father doesn't want her in the middle of it. He wants you to own up and protect her."

"No," Hayato spat firmly. "No, I can't do that. I _won't _do that. This is my life, I left Italy for that reason. I don't want any part of the mafia, even if it includes Bianchi."

"Ha, you left Italy because you were an insolent brat, bent on getting famous and power hungry and because every family you came in contact with sought out to kill you. You didn't _leave _Italy, you _fled._ You ran like a little bitch, tail between your legs."

Hayato wished his legs worked now, because he'd love to fly off that armchair and punch the stupid doctor for as many times it took to make him feel satisfied. Instead he just clenched his fists and grit his teeth. "Take her home."

"Mhm, knew you were always a pussy."

"If I had my gun right now, I'd shoot you right in that loud mouth of yours, you bastard."

Bianchi came back into the room and set down two cups of coffee on the table in front of them. "What are you guys talking about? Sounds interesting."

"Bianchi, sweetie... I'm not going to drink that," Shamal said with a snort, snubbing out his cigarette.

Bianchi shrugged and bent over so that her bottom was right in Shamal's perverted field if vision. "Suit yourself," she said, taking a sip of Shamal's coffee.

Hayato noticed Shamal's mirth filled eyes glued to her figure and he felt growing rage inside him. He knew Bianchi presented herself that way, she was always provocative but it didn't change the fact that she was his sister and he had no patience for this kind of this right now.

"Sis," he growled. "I don't even want to know why you insist on dressing like that at the crack of dawn but you need to go change and let the men have a talk here."

"Hayato, I'm insulted."

"Yeah, I am too. What's wrong with Bianchi's dress? Oh could it be, you want it a little more revealing? Ah, a little bit shorter then, miss."

Infuriated, Hayato slammed his fist down on the coffee table and glared at them. "Honestly, you two! Do you understand the severity of the situation here? The Bovino are coming to Japan to kill you and you, I'm sure that bastard sent you here to do something about it and the both of you can't do anything except to think about fucking! Is this what the people from Italy do? Go around thinking about fucking all day? You, with your brother complex and _you_ are just a fucking dirty pervert! We've got some serious business to handle and you guys need to stop treating it like a fucking joke!"

"Look, kid-"

Bianchi glared at him furiously. "Hayato, for you to say such things to me about my life with your destructive and provocative secret double life is an insult. At least I was in love with Romeo. Can you say that about the people you sleep with?" she asked coldly, folding her arms across her chest.

Hayato felt a bit of anxiety creep up his chest, it's tendrils threatening to squeeze his heart. "You shut up, my sex life isn't the one being questioned right now."

"I bet that's why you were suspended. They found out you were banging the reporter, isn't that right?" The acid in her tone was none like Hayato had ever heard before. He must have struck some nerve inside her and he needed to diffuse the situation before she outed him in front of his father's right hand man. In front of a _mafia _man, where things like Hayato's sexual preference were extremely frowned upon, sometimes even killed for.

"That's not any of your business," he remarked venomously.

Shamal laughed. "Well, hey, looks like you take after me in more ways than one. You've inherited my sexy hair style, though it looks disgusting on you, but now you have a taste for the promiscuous life. I... I'm almost proud of you, brat."

"Oh he's not promiscuous, he's just stupid. He's been fucking the reporter assigned to his serial case. He even spent the last week with -"

Hayato shot to his feet, ignoring the screaming pain that tore through his leg. "Shut up, Bianchi. Another word and so help me god, I'll be the one to collect the bounty for the price on your head."

Bianchi shut her mouth and glared at him, silently fuming.

"Oh, I'm curious now. What's so special about this reporter? Could it be the little pansy, Hurricane Bomb has found love?" Shamal sang.

Hayato groaned. "Oh go the fuck home already! I've got work to do and you're annoying me!"

"Hayato, we have to figure what to do with the Bovino brats. Your father wants you and I to take care of them," Shamal said seriously, giving up on the prior subject.

Hayato pinched the bridge of his nose. "Shamal, I can't just go around killing people. I am an officer of the _law._ I don't play by the mafia's rules."

"You're also a Filippi. Born into the Cappa Famiglia and it's next successor. You were given orders by your boss," Shamal spat.

Hayato reached forward and swiftly grabbed Shamal's shirt collar. "I'm not a _Filippi. _I'm Hayato Gokudera, detective for the Namimori Middle Police Department. I'm not Luciano Filippi of the Cappa Famiglia. I left that person in Italy over ten years ago. And that bastard is _not _my boss. He's dead to me, got it?"

Shamal looked at Bianchi and nodded towards the bedroom. Giving the men a worried look, Bianchi sighed and walked up the hall to the guest bedroom.

Hayato glared at the doctor.

Shamal let out a sigh and pried Hayato's fingers from his shirt. "Stubborn as ever, I see," Shamal said, a noticeable change to his tone.

"Still as much of an asshole as ever," Hayato retorted, releasing him.

He nodded back to the bedroom. "She's still as alluring as ever."

"_Shamal!_" Hayato growled.

"Alright, alright. Such a noisy brat. We need to talk business."

Hayato sat down in the chair and lit another cigarette. He inhaled and exhaled and sighed. "There's nothing to talk about, I'm not getting involved."

Shamal joined him, sitting down on the sofa and lighting his own smoke. "Even if it's for your sister? I know you like to think you're not related to her but the truth is you are and she loves you and you _know_ she wouldn't hesitate to help you if you needed it. Even if it went against her morals."

Hayato snorted. "Bianchi doesn't have morals. And it has nothing to do with family. My life is here, I want no part of Italy. Especially if it has to do with him."

Shamal sighed and fixed his thumbs to the middle of his forehead, resting his elbows on his knees. "Hayato, I know it's difficult for your childish brain to get but family is family. And... I didn't want to have to say this in front of Bianchi but... your father is dying."

"Good, finally karma has caught up to him," Hayato said venomously.

"No, it's not good. There's no one in line to take his place if he dies, he wants you to succeed him. His only son."

"His _bastard _son." Hayato took another drag of his cigarette and began jogging his good leg up and down.

"Think what you want, but he gives a shit about you."

"Right, lying about my birthright and killing my mother is a definite way to show someone you care. Fucking bastard."

"Heh. What a brat."

"Che. I don't care what you think of me."

"You should."

"Why?"

"Because your father wants my opinion, he wants me to assess you for the tenth position of the Head of the Cappa Famiglia."

Hayato couldn't hold it back any longer, he let out a sardonic laugh that worked its way into fit. "That... that is fucking absurd and you know it. Me, a mafia _boss?_ I despise that world, I'd never go back."

Shamal shook his head. "You don't have a choice, the family will fall apart if there's no head. It's already started with the rumors of your father's illness. And now with the Bovino being able to get such an advantage. The _Bovino,_ Hayato. They're not as powerful as our family but they possess amazing technology. And they're out for blood. Romeo Di Marco was a prospect, in line -"

Hayato waved his hand dismissively. "I know about Romeo. Bianchi has already filled me in. She says she didn't kill him. Do you believe her?"

Shamal sighed. "As much as I don't want to believe that such a beautiful and seductive creature as your sister could be so lethal and dangerous, the reputation she has for being a black widow is rather troublesome. However... I don't think she did, not this one."

Hayato pursed his lips and nodded slowly in agreement. He took another drag of his cigarette. "I don't have time for this, Shamal. I've got a case that needs solving, a murderer that needs capturing. That is my priority, I only serve _my_ boss."

"Your sister said you were suspended."

"I'm on medical leave," Hayato lied, averting his eyes. "But I can still work. The body count this guy has is five right now, and he doesn't seem like he'll be stopping anytime soon. He's not done. I can't allow him to continue to terrorize my city."

"The Bovino will get in your way, it's better to deal with them as soon as they get here."

"How will they even know where to find me? Were you stupid enough to leave a trail, old man?"

"Heh," Shamal smirked. "As if, you brat. Have some respect. I told you their technologies are advanced. It's no surprise. If you stay here like a sitting duck, you'll be killed."

Hayato rolled his eyes. "As if, you pervert. You think I'd go down so easily? I'm an excellent marksman and effective with explosives. I've been shot several times and have survived but the men who've shot at me haven't been so lucky."

Shamal crushed his cigarette out in the ashtray and scoffed. "What a cocky brat. That's when karma bites you in the ass, you know."

"It's not cockiness, it's being realistic. You should know."

"Ha, the last time I saw you was when you were fourteen and you had come here. You were a punk back then and you're the same kind of punk now, just taller and a little more muscle to you. It's nothing impressive."

"I'm not trying to impress anyone. I'm a cop, not a hitman. Not anymore and I won't be again. That life is behind me and you can't force me to go back."

"They'll kill the people closest to you. Your partner, the boss you hold in such regard... that reporter..."

Hayato fell silent. He had a growing uneasiness clawing at the insides of his stomach, working its way to his heart. He never once thought his past would catch up to him and threaten Tsuna. He would do anything to protect him. And how selfish of him to think that he could have someone he cared about all to himself. How selfish of him to drag Yamamoto into this life, _his _life where the stupidly innocent baseball idiot might get hurt. Might even be killed.

_"You've become... his saviour. He really likes you, Gokudera-kun. Maybe now he can move on."_

Tsuyoshi's words rang clear in his head and something sharp pierced his heart, something metaphorical and unconventional but it hurt as much as any real weapon would. Hayato wasn't perfect by any means, but he was smart. Smart enough to know that this feeling came from knowing the possibility that Yamamoto could be killed and it definitely didn't bode well with him. He had once been a hitman, if he was careful he could do it again. He could take care of the Bovino men the mafia way (because arresting them would do absolutely nothing) and save his sister for the time being, save Tsuna... save Yamamoto.

Which dawned on a whole new perspective for Hayato. One he wasn't quite sure if he liked, but if he was willing to kill these men and risk everything then perhaps he really was a saviour. Not to be confused with the complex, Hayato already had enough of those. But if killing these men meant protecting Yamamoto and his innocence, he'd do it. He'd be his saviour because he didn't need to know about this life. He didn't need to know bloodshed. He already had enough to hurt from; his mother's death, and Hayato wouldn't let him hurt anymore.

Taking a long and thoughtful drag on his cigarette, Hayato leaned forward to face Shamal. "Alright, I'll do it. But first, I'll need my explosives."

If he was going to kill these guys and possibly get fucked for it, he was definitely going out with a bang.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

I hope you guys liked this chapter! It was a long one, but I wanted to get Shamal and Hayato's past in there. There's still so much more I wanted to add, but I think that's enough information for you guys for now. Look forward to more chapters! As always, rates and reviews keep me going so don't hesitate to leave one!

**-Ruby **


	17. Book I : My Saint : Chapter XVII

**Author's Note:**

First, let me start off with thanking my ever so beautiful and patient waifu for helping me through this excruciatingly long chapter. I had a lot of melt downs writing it and she helped me work through them all. So thank you, Red. I love you chuu~

Secondly, I'd like to thank everyone who's read and reviewed the fic so far, you all give me more inspiration to write each time. A super special thanks to my 8059 girls too, you guys are amazing. We have a private group on Facebook, so if you love 8059 as much as we do, message me to join! We're always looking for more members!

And thirdly, this chapter contains a large amount of complexity. It covers a lot of underlying issues the boys have and how they deal with them so pay close attention!

Finally, due to the nature of this chapter I have to add my own warnings to be fair to all the readers and their sensitivity levels. Here they are as follows :

**Suicide** **- **Mentions of suicidal acts in passing, but no follow through

**Hayato x OC - **Slight and non descriptive.

**BDSM - **(Bondage and discipline, sadism/masochism) Nothing too hardcore, gory or offensive.

**Non-con - **(Non consensual) Slight, no actual rape. Mentions of partial violations in flashbacks, non descriptive

I think that covers them all, and if I missed something, I do apologize ahead of time. None of these warnings are to be taken too seriously, but I feel I must mention them in case a reader might be ultra sensitive to any of these issues. For those of you who chose to read on, I hope you enjoy the chapter!

Thanks for reading!

- Ruby

* * *

_**Chapter XVII**_

* * *

Hayato was pissed. He was stressed and furious and going out of his fucking mind. He was seething and annoyed and honestly just wanted to kill something. Or fuck someone hard and relentlessly.

This past week had everything to do with tonight. Had everything to do with why he was here, drinking cheap whiskey and smoking like a chimney, while furiously jogging his leg on the worn and rusted frame of the bar stool he sat on.

**Sunday** was the day he found Shamal under his sister's foot. The day he learned the Bovino had come to Japan, the day he learned all he cared about could be at risk. The day where he went back on the vow he had made to whatever god was listening that he'd never go back to the way of a hitman, that he'd never allow the world of the mafia engulf him again.

**Monday** was alright, to an extent. He spent it cooped up in his house, listening to Bianchi and Shamal argue for hours upon hours until sometimes he'd fall silent and Hayato had been pretty sure Bianchi had knocked him out with one of her poisons. He locked himself in his room with loud music to drown them out, and a large bottle of aged whiskey to drown his troubles in.

**Tuesday** was the day he learned about the murder. Murder number six if you included Ryohei's informant. Turns out the man who was dead was none other than the scar face that held Yamamoto captive and beat the shit out of him in a dark alleyway deep in Sakura Town. While Hayato was pleased he had met the appropriate demise for what he had done to Yamamoto, it was at the hands of a killer that still pissed him off. A murderer that always seemed to be one step ahead of him.

It was **Wednesday** he decided to go into the station, despite his gut telling him not to. There he was met with the stares of the other officers, crude and leering; offensive and judgmental. He disregarded them all because he was still superior and headed straight for Tsuna's office. There he was met with his boss and Mukuro, who after an exchange of vile insults between the two, was told to leave the room while Tsuna had a talk with Hayato. He proceeded to inform him he had been cleared of the IA investigation but he wasn't ready to allow Hayato back in the field just yet. Tsuna told him he looked tired and exhausted, and he was but that was because of the crazies that had taken over his house and because by this point he was really starting to miss a certain idiot.

To his embarrassment, his boss sat him down and told him he accepted his relationship with Yamamoto, even though Hayato insisted there wasn't one. He said he accepted his preference and that he wasn't going to judge because he'd be a hypocrite then. When Hayato asked how he could consider himself that, his boss had answered sheepishly that he to, was involved with a man. To further shock his subordinate, he went on to explain he kept it a secret for the same reason Hayato must have. For the sake of the department's reputation and for the sake of their friendship. Neither was true in Hayato's case, for he kept it secret because he was ashamed, because he was embarrassed and because quite frankly it was nobody's fucking business. And Hayato didn't want to embarrass his boss, but he couldn't help but blurt out a question that had been playing on his mind for a very long time. Was the man his boss was involved in Rokudo Mukuro?

And no, to Hayato's relief, it wasn't. Tsuna was involved with a man he had known from a neighbouring school when they were teenagers. A man named Enma Kozato. They had been together since Tsuna became a police captain and Hayato had to commend him on his boss's secrecy.

However, the relief and nostalgia of talking to his friend like old times didn't last when Tsuna regrettably refused to give Hayato any information about the case except to tell him the body count was seven, not six. Seven bodies total because the man Hayato had shot was killed using the same drug that killed the informant. He didn't have to be a genius to know they were all connected.

Things got heated when Hayato pressed for more information, accusing Tsuna of having a mole in the department that was leaking information to the press and it was most definitely not him. Regardless of that belief, Tsuna denied him anymore access and demanded he go home and rest because he looked like death warmed over and Tsuna said it created a bad image for the department. Hayato stormed down the stairs only to be confronted by Ryohei who had heard everything by this time, including the one thing Hayato had hoped to keep quiet.

At first he didn't say much, other than the usual arsenal of insulting pleasantries that they often shared between each other but Hayato was already been in a bad mood, so instead of coming off as snarky and retorting with something as such, like he usually did, he ended up sounding harsh and irate to which Ryohei sneered and made a comment the will forever itch the underside of his skin.

_"Heh. Now I get why you're always bitchy to the extreme, you on your period or something? I always thought you were a bit of fag."_

Hayato's face had flared and he swiftly brought his fist to connect with his face and the ex boxer didn't even have enough time to react. He heard the satisfying crack of cartilage under his knuckles and Ryohei had dropped to his knees.

"Asshole," Hayato spat and before Ryohei could retaliate, he was dragged out of the building while the uniformed officers that had always hated him, always were a little jealous of him, finally got their chance to cut Hayato down with every derogatory slur they could think of. It didn't matter, though the words lashed and cut through his skin like a whip dipped in acid for they stung right after, he'd drown them all in the third bottle of whiskey he'd have that week.

By **Thursday,** Hayato had pretty much been drunk for twenty four hours straight, miserable and angry and despising his life. And for a few short moments, he had considered ending it. He wondered how he'd do it. Not pills, he hated them. He thought of places he could successfully hang himself from, but he didn't have the privacy for that. He'd definitely be stopped by those assholes in his living room still fucking bickering with each other. He just wanted quiet, was that too much to fucking ask for?

Maybe running a blade down the length of each forearm and watch red ribbons encircle his pale skin as he faded to black. But then again... that'd take too long. Then, maybe he'd use his service pistol. One bullet straight through his temple, or maybe through his mouth to the back of the head. But as the cool iron brushed against his lips, he shuddered. He couldn't imagine having it slip through his mouth and taste the metallic tang across his tongue.

To the temple. That seemed like the better bet. One clean shot and done, even if it was a little messy. But then he thought of his sister, and even though she was annoying as fuck, he didn't really hate her. Not enough to have her come in to find him like that, have to clean up his mess. That's when he lowered the muzzle pressed into the side of his head and switched the safety back on his gun.

Sighing, he realized that he was even too pussy to kill himself. One more thing he could add to the list of failures.

He couldn't figure out exactly where it all went wrong, _how _it all went wrong. He didn't even know why it all went wrong but it began when he met Yamamoto Takeshi. Nothing but a string of bad luck followed that bastard, and one thing piled on top of the other but when it came down to it, he was right at the center, right at the core of all of his fucking issues.

He wanted to be mad, he wanted to hate Yamamoto for everything and on some level he did, hated him for coming into his life and fucking it all up. Fucking _him _all up. He was an emotional wreck and he fucking hated it, hated Yamamoto for making him feel that way. And then, he considered pointing the gun at him and taking _his _life. A simple end to all his problems, the perfect solution to this complicated formula that had become his life.

But as he imagined what it'd be like, staring into those bright caramel and chartreuse eyes and watching the light fade from them, his heart wrenched and his stomach twisted in anxious knots and he knew he couldn't bear the thought, let alone the action. Because Hayato had become completely captivated by that man, completely dependent on his existence and he hated that too, but he knew... he knew that there was something more that stirred in him for Yamamoto. More than unbridled passion and lust.

When he broke his vow that he made to whatever gods had been listening, the one that made him swear to himself that he'd never revert back to a hitman, he knew. He knew that Yamamoto was worth that much, was worth protecting. His innocence was definitely worth saving.

Hayato knew, and while he wasn't ready to accept it, he was aware that he was in love with the reporter. Because his smile. reached a place in his heart he didn't even know was there until the first time he saw it, because his laugh made his blood boil but rush all at the same time. Because his fingertips made his stomach flutter every time he dragged them lazily against his skin and because the way he kissed him had him feeling love drunk and dazed, left him with a swollen erection but also a swollen heart.

And Hayato had no idea what the fuck love felt like, but he had never felt like this before and his logical brain needed something to call it other that a bunch of hormones creating a chemical reaction. And that was love; a can't eat, can't sleep sort of feeling, an overwhelming urge to not be without the addictive presence _ever._ A warmth he wanted to consume him every minute of his life. A body that he wanted to be his for the rest if his life, lips that belonged to only him and that stupid innocence to always bring him back from the brink of darkness. And that's when he realized he wanted Yamamoto all to himself, wanted to stake his claim on the man that made him love and hate and laugh and want to live all at the same time.

Because that was one more thing that kept him alive, kept him from pulling that trigger. As much as he tried to suppress it, Yamamoto's light made him reconsider every decision made at this point. He was the person he needed to remind him that there was still good left in this world, that there were still people worth fighting for. People worth _saving_, especially people like Yamamoto. If anything, Yamamoto was _his _saint, _his _saviour.

Except on **Friday **he had sobered up and realized that being with Yamamoto was impossible. He couldn't pull him down into this world, couldn't let him in on all the crazy. He _wouldn't _make him miserable like he was, make him partake in a life where the ever present stench of death loomed over them. He wouldn't put Yamamoto through that, especially after hearing how much his mother's death affected him.

As selfish as Hayato was, he couldn't keep Yamamoto for himself. He cared enough about him to let him go, that much he knew. He had to give up on the one thing that made him happy and he would if that meant keeping him safe. He would forget him, let him move on to a wife and kids and happy things. Things he'd never get from Hayato.

And that was why he was here, at this place. Tired and angry eyes roaming the crowd, leg jogging furiously and drowning himself in cheap whiskey. All he needed to do was forget. Forget the way his sinewy body felt underneath his palms, forget his lips and the way they tasted. He needed to forget that smile and the way he laughed and the way his stupidity and innocence made him feel. He wanted to forget that enigmatic dark streak that made him curious to see more, _want _more. He just needed to forget everything, and right now the whiskey wasn't cutting it.

He felt inadequate, emasculated and downright useless. He thought that he could solve the case, be done with with the Bovino men and put all this behind him. Then maybe he could clear a path for him and Yamamoto. Just maybe.

Except now, there was no way that he could. His boss wouldn't let him in, Ryohei was a fucking joke and he wasn't going to use Yamamoto. Not this time. The further he stayed away, the better.

While he knew that one phone call would save all this trouble, he had made the decision to keep Yamamoto out of this. All of it. He wasn't going to risk him getting hurt. The Bovino men were likely scoping out their options, doing background checks and finding affiliations between their targets so they'd have leverage if it came to that. The more he thought about it, the further he stayed away from Yamamoto, was definitely for the better.

Not having release for all his pent up angst, not being able to be a cop and do his job or being cooped up in his house with the crazies who made sexual passes or poisoned each other and just boldly invaded Hayato's personal space was really starting to drive him mad. What he needed was sex and there wasn't Yamamoto to tend to it and it was really making him crazy.

He had an itch he needed to scratch and on this night he found himself at a familiar bar with familiar faces. The place was good enough to find what he was seeking.

He was dressed in tight jeans and white collared shirt with a black sheer undershirt that hugged and stretched over his beveled torso. He wore his rosary and a tangle of chains around his neck with his hair pulled back in a tail. He knew enough to show off the better parts to him when he came to these places, like his neck and collar bone. He put himself on display and surveyed the crowd of people for curious eyes that drank in his presence.

Usually his gun and badge would be set on his jutted hips but since being suspended, he only carried his cuffs and small service pistol for protection. Hayato was reckless and he was hoping for a better outcome than having to use those items to protect himself. He had came here with intentions and now he was definitely drunk.

Hayato was not a bad drunk, he didn't stagger and fall or make a fool of himself. He wasn't a happy or giddy drunk nor was he a mean and violent drunk. If anything, his personality was magnified by the alcohol. He seemed more arrogant, more cocky and egotistical and usually smarter. But when he was drunk he also made a lot of bad decisions.

He knew why he came here, he needed release. He needed to viciously pound some useless fool into a mattress or floor or bathroom wall, anything worked as long as he could scratch that itch. As long as he could forget about everything for a minute, especially Yamamoto. Because not being with him hurt, more than he would like to admit but in the end he knew it was for the greater good. All things Hayato did, no matter how much he disagreed with them or how against his morals they were, all things Hayato did were for the greater good.

It was nearing two a.m, and Hayato had found a familiar face and he decided that would be the man he'd take back to a hotel with him. What difference did it make, his rules? He had already broken so many of them with Yamamoto, what difference did it make if he followed them now? He really just wanted to stop feeling for a little bit, forget Yamamoto and forget feeling emasculated, forget feeling like a failure and going back on his vow to never have any ties to the mafia when he landed in Japan. He didn't care who it was, as long as it was anyone other than Yamamoto.

Although strangely enough, the idea of being with someone else hurt him just as much as not being with him at all but he quickly pushed it down and locked it away with all the other emotions he had been feeling prior to his drunken state.

He didn't even know this guy's name, barely recognized his face. The man was ecstatic and happy, even apologized for the last time when they were together, acting as if _he _wasn't the one who made their first time a one night stand. Right, as if he ever had the chance to make it into anything but that.

Hayato told him to shut up and fumbled a bit with the motel room key, and the other man didn't stop talking. He was in the middle of lavishing Hayato with compliments when he stopped abruptly mid sentence.

Hayato didn't pay no mind until he heard his own name roll off a tongue, slick with confusion and anguish.

"Hayato...?"

Hayato whirled around, felt his eyes widen in shock and his heart stop completely. He drew in a sharp breath and it hitched in his throat. "Ya... Yamamoto!"

The _last _person Hayato wanted to see right now. His stomach twisted and his heart wrenched. He ddin't want Yamamoto to see this but maybe it was for his own good. Hayato knew he wouldn't have the resolve to deny him when it came down to it, so maybe this would work out in his favour.

Yamamoto's eyes narrowed and he cast a look over Hayato's shoulder to the man standing behind it. "Who is this?" he asked, his voice strained and hollow.

"Who the fuck are you?" the man shot back and Hayato narrowed his own eyes. Forfetting for a minute the purpose this accidental meeting might serve, he felt himself becoming angry and annoyed. The bastard had probably been following him, maybe even watching him. Hayato wouldn't put it past him. After all, Yamamoto was a man with a couple of screws loose.

"None of your fucking business," Hayato growled, turning around and fumbling once again with the key, the alcohol numbing his dexterity.

A hand came down on his shoulder and gripped him hard, yanking him back fiercely from the motel room door.

"Yamamoto!" It came out as a strangled gasp.

"Hey man, get your hands off him!" Hayato's partner yelled, attempting to dislodge Yamamoto's hand from Hayato's shoulder.

Yamamoto violently pushed the man aside and a low, gutteral growl erupted from his throat. "Get lost. I'm not very nice when it comes to sharing things that are mine." He pulled Hayato into his chest.

Hayato looked up at his face and saw the darkness shadowing his otherwise sunny features. His lips were pressed thin and taut, nostrils flared and eyes narrowed to malicious slits and he wanted to be angry but his mind was spinning with shock and confusion.

The man opened his mouth to retort but shut it just as quickly and backed away. Something in Yamamoto's face must have scared him and after a few tentative steps backwards, he took off fleeing.

After the man was no where in sight, Yamamoto spun him around, tight grip on both his shoulders. "What were you going to do, Hayato?" he asked accusingly.

Snapping back to the current situation, Hayato shoved him away. "What are you doing here, you bastard? Are you fucking stalking me, you crazy fuck?"

Yamamoto took a step forward and cocked his head to the side. "Stalking you? I was out for a run, my apartment is a few blocks from here. I looked over and saw you. Your hair is a dead give away."

Sounded legit.

"What were you doing with him?"

Appropriate excuse or not, it didn't stop the rage ballooning underneath his rib cage. He didn't need to answer to anyone and really, why was Yamamoto so damn persistent? Couldn't he just take the hint and move on?

"I already told you it's none of your fucking business! I don't owe you anything, you bastard!"

Yamamoto reached for the key in Hayato's hand and snatched it free from his loose grip. He grabbed Hayato's wrist tightly and pulled him towards the door. "Get inside, you're making a scene."

Hayato had all the liquid courage he needed to face this side of Yamamoto and stay true to his decision to forget about him. He yanked his hand free and scoffed. "I'm making a scene? You're the crazy bastard following me, acting all posessive and mentally retarded! I'm not going anywhere with your crazy ass. You're honestly a fucking psycho."

Here's hoping that offended him so much that he really did fuck off.

Yamamoto suceeded in getting the motel room door and turned to Hayato. "I said get inside. We're going to talk."

Guess not.

Hayato narrowed his eyes and crossed his arms across his chest. "Oh no, I'm not going anywhere with you. Like _hell._"

Yamamoto's eyes darkened and anger flashed across his face. "I wasn't asking. Now get inside before I make you."

The words smacked Hayato in the face and the rage he had building had exploded. He lunged at Yamamoto and fisted his t-shirt, shoving him against the wall of the motel. He let out an animalistic snarl as Yamamoto's head smacked hard against the brick.

"Oi! Just who the fuck do you think you're talking to?!"

Hissing and shaking his head, Yamamoto pushed him back and then grabbed him by the arm. Hayato managed to connect a left hook with Yamamoto's mouth, causing his bottom lip to split. They struggled and scuffled to dominate the other as punches were thrown and bodies were shoved and curses were flown. Finally, Yamamoto got dirty and yanked on a fistful of hair at the nape of Hayato's neck and for a split second he winced, allowing Yamamoto to close his arms around Hayato and drag him into the motel room while Hayato thrashed and sputtered a slew of obscenities in as many languages he could think of.

Luckily their ruckus hadn't drawn any attention, the people near this seedy motel knew better than to involve themselves in a scuffle between two men at three in the morning.

"How many times have I told you that you're mine? How many times have I said that I won't see you with anyone else?" yelled Yamamoto, tossing Hayato on to the bed. His head hit off the wrought iron headboard and he hissed loudly over the hollow _thwong _it made during the connection.

Hayato jolted upright and the sudden rush made the room spin for a half a minute. "Oi! How many times have I told you I don't belong to anyone! We just fuck, nothing else. You're nothing to me, don't you get it?! I haven't even talked you in a week, are you so dense that you can't pick up on the fact that I want nothing to do with you?"

Yamamoto stood the foot of the bed and for a minute Hayato saw hurt settle in, causing a wrinkle in his brow and his lips set into a frown, creasing the scar on his chin. Then it was gone as quickly as it came and the cold and stern look of anger was back. "Nothing, hm? I'm nothing to you, you say?"

He lurched forward in a flash, tackling Hayato on to his back, his head nearly hitting the iron again. Yamamoto set one arm on either side of his head and one knee set on either side of his waist, caging him in.

Hayato's reflexes were numbed by the copious amounts of alcohol he'd consumed earlier and he couldn't react in time. However, his mouth could and he was still seething from earlier.

"Yeah, that's what I fucking said, idiot! you have a hearing problem to go along with your stupidity?" he shot back. He attempted to shove Yamamoto off of him, but he was a big guy and a lot heavier than he looked.

Yamamoto leaned back and grabbed Hayato's wrists with one hand in a hard grip and pinned them over his head. "I don't like your tone, Hayato."

Hayato wormed underneath him, trying to break free of his grip. "I don't care! You're crazy! You're fucking crazy!" he shouted, eyes squeezed shut.

He felt Yamamoto lean in and his breath in his ear. When he spoke, his voice was smooth and low, sly and seductive. "Maybe so, but I'm beginning to think you like my kind of crazy, don't you, Hayato?" He lashed out his tongue and it left a trail of burning heat along his ear that made him shiver.

"See... you like that, don't you?" Yamamoto nipped sharply at his ear lob and another shiver rippled through Hayato.

"Get... get off me!"

But he does... Somewhere deep inside, Hayato likes the crazy. It's like a magnet and he's drawn to it, especially from the alluring man above him.

Yamamoto pressed his lower half down and Hayato could feel the outline of his erection through his sweatpants against his own. Instinctively, Hayato shifted his hips up just slightly, but it was enough for Yamamoto to notice. He hummed and Hayato could feel that carnivorous grin against his skin.

"Mm, Hayato... you're so unfair..." Yamamoto ran his free hand up Hayato's shirt, his fingertips skirting across a sensitive nipple. Leaning back, his eyes raked over Hayato's body and he bit his bleeding lip.

"Look at this, Hayato... Look at the way you're dressed. So naughty, you look like a whore," he said, pulling on the hem of Hayato's sheer undershirt.

Something in Yamamoto's movements, in his voice, sparks a fire in the pit of Hayato's stomach. It's an unfamiliar reaction but he knows he's turned on by this. It's new to him but there is something about Yamamoto holding him down that gets him hot and weak.

"F-Fuck you, bastard."

"Take it off," he demanded, releasing his grip on Hayato's wrists.

"What?"

"Your shirt, take it off. It feels dirty knowing all those men were able to see my Hayato through this slutty fabric... I don't like it, so take it off."

The words cut through Hayato pleasurably and he can't believe the twitch of his dick in response to Yamamoto's demanding tone. It's cold and harsh but so fucking seductive at the same time and Hayato doesn't know if he's pissed or horny. Fuck it though, because maybe he's a little bit of both and that makes for a dangerous combination. He likes being angry and rough, it's nostalgic. He wants to get back to the raw kind of fucking he's used to and he's glad because there are no unfamiliar and confusing emotions to this kind of fucking.

With a defiant growl, Hayato complies, shrugging out of his white button up shirt and pulling the undershirt over his head. Before he can get it off completely, Yamamoto takes advantage of the criss cross position of his wrists, grabbing them and pinning them behind his head again.

Hayato yells a slur in protest but is silenced when Yamamoto pinches the bud between his thumb and index finger, leaning in to lap at Hayato's neck. Hayato shudders because he's never knew how sensitive his neck could be before this guy came along, especially the spot behind his ear that makes him jolt each time Yamamoto's tongue passes over it.

Hayato's not quite sure what to do here. He wants Yamamoto, so badly, but he knows that being with him again will only set back the acceptance of the fact that they _can't _be together back further. Unfortunately he knows the second Yamamoto's lips press against his jaw and up over his chin that he's going to kiss him. And sure enough, Yamamoto's lips make it to his and he responds.

The reaction is nothing short of an explosion, full of yearning and carnal lust. To make it sweeter, Yamamk8oto grinds down on him, tightening his grip on Hayato's wrists. Unable to struggle, or rather nor wanting to, Hayato parts his lips and Yamamoto moans into his open mouth before delving in. His tongue darts around, running along the roof of his mouth, his teeth and finally Hayato's own tongue.

Yamamoto abruptly breaks away and leans back a little, still with a firm grip on Hayato's wrists. He wears a grin, dark and cunning and his eyes are fixed and narrowed. "You keep playing with my head, Hayato... I don't like it. What should we do about this?"

"Bastard... if you're not going to let me fuck you, then fuck off. I don't want to be part of your fucking ravenous lunacy!"

Yamamoto's grin spread at an eerily slow pace, until it was sly and malignant. "So that's it then, hm? You just want to fuck me?"

Hayato felt like he was being toyed with. He wasn't into this fucking cat and mouse game. While he did enjoy a bit of a chase, what thrilled him most was the end result. The moment he's won and is dominating over the person that thought they had the arrogance to play hard to get when really they're just attention whores. What really turned him on was taking them down a few notches and making them feel used, taking any shred of self esteem they had left afterwards when he wouldn't even look at their faces. Stripping them of their dignity by fucking them into a mattress and not even having the decency to remember their names or stay after the deed was done.

And maybe, maybe this was his way of making up for the confidence he lacked. Maybe it had something to do with never feeling as adequate when he was a child. Maybe it had a lot to do with living with Shamal. Or maybe this was his way of filling a void that could never be filled, a large crater left open somewhere deep inside his soul that no amount of nameless one night stands could fill. Maybe it was because he was just as fucked up as Yamamoto, because maybe he had that void too. Maybe Yamamoto was empty on the inside just like he was, hollow and apathetic and the façades they showed; the masks they wore were to deceive _themselves _that everything was okay. That they were fine the way they were and that the gaping hole marring their souls wasn't painful.

Hayato's own impish smirk mapped it's way out on his face and he narrowed his eyes, challenging Yamamoto. Two could play at this game. "Yeah, you fucking psycho bastard. I just wanna fuck you."

Yamamoto raised a brow and Hayato could read the acceptance in his eyes, a challenge of his own in that crooked grin. He reached in between their groins with his free hand and massaged the straining erection pressed excruciatingly tight against Hayato's jeans. The relief felt good and it caused Hayato to gasp a little breath of pleasure as Yamamoto's slow caress began to ease of of the tension.

"Ma... I guess I can do that for you, Hayato. You feel awfully needy right here," Yamamoto said coyly as he continued to rub Hayato's denim clad cock.

"Che... I'm not... I'm not needy, I don't _need _to fuck you," he managed carefully but with conviction. He was afraid to open his mouth at all lest there be some tell tale signs that he was enjoying this all too much.

And as he said those words, Yamamoto stopped and stared down at him, his eyes narrowed to slits and the malicious grin still playing on his lips. He slid his hand out from between them and leaned in, smashing his lips against Hayato's in a ferociously bruising kiss that made the smoldering embers down in his groin flare up with rapid succession throughout his entire body.

He felt Yamamoto's hand on his hip as he ground his pelvis down, felt his hand slide up his obliques and over his rib cage as his tongue slid along the seams of his lips. He was mildly aware of a cool and smooth sensation following the trail of Yamamoto's hand but the heat from the kiss had Hayato reeling, so dizzy from the aching want in his cock and lack of oxygen to his brain. Yamamoto kept grinding and Hayato was so close to just seeking release before his dick was even unsheathed.

Yamamoto stretched out one of Hayato's arms until he felt the metal of the motel's cheap headboard against his knuckles. He closed his hand over Hayato's fingers and moaned into his mouth again, causing the hair on the back of his neck to stand on end and a sharp twinge in the pit if his stomach.

Lips still locked messily and tongues clashing, heavy huffing and saliva dripping, Yamamoto took Hayato's other hand in his and stretched it over his head while he pressed down harder, causing Hayato to groan in frustration. He was so lost in the kiss, so caught up in the heated friction and so spellbound by the man on top of him that he wasn't aware until it was too late to realize the cool metal on his wrists and the dull clink and latch he heard meant that the crazy bastard had handcuffed him to the headboard with his own handcuffs.

The second he became aware, he bit down hard on Yamamoto's already injured lip and he yelped, pulling back.

"Oi!" Hayato shouted, tugging at the cuffs around his wrists now tethered to the bed. "What the fuck, you fucking twisted fuck! Let me out of these _right fucking now!_" he snarled.

Yamamoto leaned back once again, straddling Hayato's hips and licked the blood of his lip playfully. He laughed. "I quite like the look of you like this, Hayato."

Hayato wasn't freaking out yet, but he was undeniably infuriated. "You stupid fucking insane baseball bastard! Let me fucking go!"

Yamamoto chuckled and shifted down Hayato's legs, ignoring his angry and derogatory slurs and began working on his belt buckle. Hayato thrashed and kicked but Yamamoto's weight made it difficult for him to move and the constant friction between the cuffs and his skin was beginning to make the flesh sting and burn. The pain was bearable but Hayato was having more of a problem deciding if he should be angry because he had lost some of the control or be exceptionally turned on by the way he was being manhandled by this psychotically seductive man.

Yamamoto yanked down his jeans and boxers to his knees and the cool rush of air brought a little relief to his searing flesh. He succeeded in unearthing Hayato's still interested and erect cock and moved down, placing himself between Hayato's legs and Hayato could only watch with bated breath. He wrapped his long fingers around the shaft and stroked it slow, just once. The instant fire from the skin on skin contact was almost enough to make Hayato lose it but the anger he still felt was keeping him from getting too swept away this time.

"Hayato... what were you going to let that man do to you?" Yamamoto asked, innocently curious eyes sliding up Hayato's body.

"Fuck you," he snarled. "Why don't you shut that fucking annoying mouth of yours by putting my cock in it, bastard."

Yamamoto's grin was sly and he arched a long brow. "Oh... were you going to ask him to do that for you too?"

Hayato flushed red and he tugged on his restraints, the steel finally cutting into his skin. He contemplated breaking his wrists to get out of the cuffs so he could beat the shit out of Yamamoto and punish him by fucking him into oblivion.

"Fuck you. Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you," he repeated, eyes squeezed shut again as he tried to balance himself between lust and anger. "You better make sure I'm dead before I break out of these because I swear to god I'm going to fucking kill you, you crazy fucker! Stop fucking talking and get on with it!" he demanded, thrusting his hips up.

"Mm," Yamamoto hummed "Hayato... Are you begging for it? Haha, I think I like that,Yamamoto brushed his lips along the length of Hayato's cock.

Hayato groaned and tugged at the cuffs again, causing his wrists to bleed. "I don't beg for shit, especially from those fuckers. You know that," he growled, growing more impatient by the second.

Yamamoto dipped the tip of his tongue into the slit and he let out a hiss of pleasure. Hayato felt himself shiver.

"Mm... that's right," Yamamoto said, working his way up Hayato's chest with his lips and tongue. He mouthed his collar bone, sinking his teeth into his flesh and leaving possessive marks on his snow white skin. "You are mine, Hayato," he whispered harshly against the sensitive spot behind Hayato's ear. "Don't you ever forget that."

It sent a shudder straight through Hayato and he wasn't even able to protest. This man's ability to bring him to a hot, shuddering and shivering mess was incontestable.

"Say it," he demanded, nipping at Hayato's ear lobe. He licked up the shell and breathed heatedly against his temple. "Say that you're mine."

"Fuck you," he breathed and pulled on the restraints frustratingly. "Why don't you tell me that you belong to me? Why don't you tell me that you're _mine? _You weren't even into guys before but you love my dick so much it makes you crazy, literally," he sneered.

He really meant it. In some sort of twisted turn if events, Hayato had become obsessed with this man the minute he first met him. Looking back on it now, there wasn't a day that had gone by where Yamamoto didn't play on his mind, even when he tried to work, even when he tried to forget him. There wasn't any going back from this now, he wanted this man all to himself, just the way he was. Dark and twisted, happy and innocent. There was something in his multifaceted personality that made him special, that made Hayato want to keep him. He had so many different lights Hayato saw him in that made him realize that he had his own inner demons just like he did, all stemming from the loss of their mothers. And as much as Hayato didn't want to admit, they really were kindred spirits. Hayato didn't believe much in God anymore, like he had at one point but he believed that Yamamoto had been brought into his life for a reason, even if there wasn't a logical explanation his calculated brain could come up with.

Yamamoto sat upright, arms crossed and hand wrapped around his chin while Hayato continued to struggle with the cuffs around his wrists. He wanted to touch him, to feel him... to just _show _him how much he wanted the same thing, that he wanted to claim Yamamoto as his own too. He needed to show him what words couldn't express, because Hayato's never been good with words.

"You want to me to be yours, yet you're here with another man? Are you some sort of slut, then? Can't keep that dick in your pants, can you? Haha, I do love it though. That I can't deny."

Hayato looked into Yamamoto's hazel eyes and they were dark with a predatory haze and he wore a feral grin.

"But... you haven't been very good, toying with me... avoiding me, lying to me. That other man was going to touch you, feel you inside him... _My _Hayato. I just can't have that. Yet you say you want me to tell you that I'm yours. How am I supposed to believe that?"

"Yamamoto, let me out of these fucking things and I'll fucking _show _you, you bastard," he ground out through clenched teeth.

Yamamoto leaned forward and wrapped his long fingers around Hayato's throat. He brushed his lips against his ear. "I thought I told you to call me _Takeshi_ when we're alone. Say it," he demanded again, his voice silky and stern.

Hayato stilled and his eyes went wide and he felt goosebumps run along his skin. The heat he felt from Yamamoto's hand was searing and Yamamoto could not doubt feel his quickened pulse under his palm. He remained silent and still, breath rapid and shallow until Yamamoto released his loose grip on Hayato's throat and ran his fingertips down his chest.

"Ma," he said with a sigh. "You don't need to say it now, I'll have you saying it by the time I'm finished with you."

Eyes wide, Hayato looked at him incredulously and Yamamoto grinned.

He reached beside Hayato's head and picked up the flimsy undershirt and slowly dragged it along Hayato's chest. "I'm going to do something and you're going to be a good boy and let me, ne?" he said playfully.

Hayato furrowed his brow, growing more perplexed and perturbed and panicked as the situation went everywhere but in the direction he wanted it to go. "Wha-what?"

Yamamoto smiled and brought the undershirt up, wrapping it around each fist and pulling it tight. He pushed it against Hayato's throat and kissed his chin, his jaw and his cheek.

"Yama-"

He pressed the tightly roped undershirt hard against Hayato's Adam's apple and whispered in his ear. "_Takeshi._"

Hayato's heart raced, blood pounded in his ears and he audibly gulped. His brain was telling him to shut down, to pay no heed to the fact that Yamamoto had his shirt wrapped around his throat while nibbling and lapping at his ear lobe. Except his cock wasn't willing to ignore it. Once again it twitched, it strained and it was painful. _So _painful. He needed release and he needed it soon because he wasn't sure how much more if this he could take.

"Oi... what are you doing?" asked Hayato carefully. He refused to call this lunatic by his name.

Yamamoto looked down at him, sparks of mischief lighting his hazel eyes. "If I kiss you, are you going to bite me again?"

Hayato smirked. Here's where he could take back some of the control. "No kissing. That will be _your_ punishment for all this, you bastard."

Yamamoto grinned feral and his eyes lit up. "Punishment? Do you really think you're in a position to be talking about punishing me? Haha." He chuckled as he kissed down Hayato's neck and back to his ear. "There are plenty of other places I can kiss other than your lips..."

He ran his thumb along the lower seam of his lip, careful not to bring it close enough for Hayato to bite. "Even though I love to kiss these erotic lips... I really love to kiss your body too."

Hayato growled in frustration and Yamamoto laughed. "Gokudera's so cute."

"Fuck you, loony bastard. Have you ever had your head checked? You've got multiple personality disorder, I'm sure of it. You're bi polar and you're fucking _crazy._"

Yamamoto laughed again and brushed the undershirt against his cheek. "Nope, never been. Gokudera's got me crazy... So beautiful and erotic, it messes with my head... turns me into something darker when I see you with someone else." He sighed. "It... it really isn't fair." He narrowed his eyes and curled his lips into a lopsided grin. "You should take responsibility, Hayato."

"Ha, the crazy was already there." He paused then, "C'mon _Takeshi..._ uncuff me and let me fuck the crazy out of you," Hayato said seductively, rolling his hips.

Yamamoto looked as if he were considering the option but then he grinned wide but the bright smile didn't match the darkness in his eyes. "Ma... while that sounds like a really fun idea, I've got other plans for Gokudera." He quickly took the undershirt and covered Hayato's eyes with it.

"What? Wait, what other plans? Hey, what are you doing?!"

Yamamoto laughed and Hayato could have sworn it sounded maniacal.

Because the undershirt was sheer, Hayato was just able to see the blurred shape of Yamamoto's face while he tied the shirt behind his head. The lights outside the motel doors still flooded in, allowing a shadowing glow to Yamamoto's silhouette. Hayato thought it was a bit ironic, the play on light and dark. It was like the image before his was a metaphor for Yamamoto's true self. Bright and dazzling, iridescent and glowing but there was a darkness lurking, a shadow ever present looming over. Hayato wondered if his darkness was suffocating, if his aura was hard to supress or if was the opposite, like him. Was Yamamoto ominous and twisted by nature like he was, and everything else was just a mask? A façade to detour everyone that might be wary of their presence, that would be scared to know their true selves?

Regardless of what it was, Hayato was curious. The attraction he felt was dangerous, it kept him from being rational but he was beginning to like that. Yamamoto was like a puzzle he couldn't solve and the magnetic pull that had on Hayato was bad.

_Because curiosity killed the cat..._

"Oi oi... I would have never imagined you for a guy that was into this," remarked Hayato, realizing by this time in their little game, resisting and complaining was futile.

_Heh... but satisfaction brought him back..._

And Yamamoto was indeed satisfying.

He felt Yamamoto trace down his face with his fingertips. "Why... does Gokudera like this?"

Hayato has never been through something like this and yes, he has come to realize that he did like it. He wasn't sure if it was Yamamoto and his dual personality, or if it was the fact that he was rendered helpless and manhandled by him or the fact that he was drunk and his inhibitions had flown out the window the second Yamamoto frisked him up and chained him to the bed.  
He wasn't sure how to respond he just grunted and waited for Yamamoto's touch. He felt his lips on his sternum, warm and soft. His breath made him shiver.

He gasped a little when he felt Yamamoto's fingers rub his nipples gently with his thumbs and moaned when his tongue flicked over the sensitive buds. It was really true; being blindfolded, losing your sight, enhanced your other senses.

Yamamoto's teeth grazed each nipple, causing an electric jolt to shoot through his spine and he arched his back, aching to plunge his fingers into Yamamoto's soft, thick hair and pull at it.

He felt the heavy weight in his arms as they started to go numb, his wrists still bleeding and stinging from the cuffs chaffing his flesh. But all that took a stand in the back of his mind when he felt the flat of Yamamoto's tongue run up his shaft. He groaned and then bit his lip, fighting the urge to beg Yamamoto to _please,_ _just hurry up and put me in your fucking mouth already, you have no fucking idea how amazing your mouth feels._

His silent plea was answered when he felt Yamamoto's wet breath on the inside of his thigh, nipping his way up and then his mouth enveloped Hayato's cock.

It was hot, his mouth, working his way down to the base and using the flat of his tongue to run along the underside. Hayato let out a long moan and Yamamoto chuckled, the throaty sound vibrating down his shaft and resonating throughout his groin.

Forgetting for a moment that his hands were cuffed behind his head, Hayato tried to bring them down to grasp at his hair and push deeper into his mouth. But Yamamoto wasn't having any of that, Hayato realized. He had all the control and in this moment, Hayato was okay with that.  
He slid Hayato out of his mouth and blew on the head, his rough tongue lapped up the pre-cum Hayato knew had begun to flow. His cock has so hard and straining and Yamamoto's mouth was back, massaging the pressure that had built up. Hayato couldn't control it anymore and he came, filling Yamamoto's mouth. Curses spewed out of his mouth as Yamamoto milked him through his climax, greedily swallowing.

Hayato wanted to see his face, wanted to witness that lewd act but could see nothing through his blindfold so he pictured it instead; Yamamoto's full lips curved and tainted with his release while it dribbled down his chin and over his scar. His eyes playful but dark, and the tip of his tongue lashing out to lick the seams of his lips clean. It made him quiver and it was enough to pique the interest in his dick as he felt it grow haphazardly hard.

"Mm..." Yamamoto's smooth voice gave him goosebumps. "You look like you enjoyed that... Are you picturing something naughty, Hayato?" His hot tongue fell back on him, gliding up his navel and he gripped each of his hips.

"Yeah... me nailing you into the fucking bed," he rasped.

Yamamoto's tongue flicked over his nipples again. "Mm... soon, soon. Right now, I'm having a little fun with you."

And it's then Hayato feels the cold shock of Yamamoto's mouth leave him, then he feels a move in position and suddenly the weight on the bed shifts and he guesses Yamamoto has left it.

He strains to see through the blindfold but can't, the room is dark, for the lights outside each door have been shut off for the night, and so is the fabric and there is not even the slightest sliver of light to offer him sight, not even the dimness of the headlights that stream through the window as wayward cars pass by the motel.

It frustrates him because he can hear movement, soft rustles and padding and the sound of his own heart pounding. He prays to God that Yamamoto can't hear it because he's a little frantic and nervous and nothing but weak. He wants to call out and ask what he's doing but he doesn't want to give Yamamoto anymore pleasure in the way he's managed to make Hayato come undone. So he patiently waits and it isn't long before he feels the bed dip beside him as Yamamoto's weight returns to it.

He smells the faint scent that is Yamamoto's musk and his alone; soapy and fresh, with undertones of earth and sweet sweat. He's so close he can hear Yamamoto's steady breathing and then there's another shift in movement and the mattress on the other side of his head dips too.

Smooth fingers slide along the underside of his jaw and curl around his chin, a thumb runs along the seam of his bottom lip, pressing suggestively against it.

Against Hayato's logical reason, against his growing panic but indulging the growing twinge in the pit of his stomach, the _want _he feels, Hayato parts his lips and allows the thumb to slip inside. It runs over his teeth first before resting on his tongue. And Hayato curls his tongue around the thumb and closes his lips over the flesh and sucks. He hears the slightest hitch of a breath as he feels Yamamoto's other hand run through his hair and cup the back of his head.

Yamamoto moves his thumb and presses it to the back of Hayato's bottom teeth and tightens the grip on his chin. He pries Hayato's jaw open with just the use of his thumb and something soft and blunt brushes his lips.

Hayato knows what it is right away, as he lashes his tongue out and sweeps it across the head of Yamamoto's cock. He tastes a bit of come, salty yet sweet and he moves his head forward to wrap his mouth around it but Yamamoto yanks his head back, using the grip he has on his hair at the nape of his neck.

He doesn't mean to but he groans and oh god does ever sound needy, he's so mortified. He feels his face begin to burn and Yamamoto chuckles softly. "Not yet," he says and he pulls his thumb out of Hayato's mouth.

He feels it then, Yamamoto's cock, heavy against his lips and the slickness of come falls on to them. Not wanting another jerk to his head, Hayato indulges and licks his tongue out again, tasting his lips, tasting Yamamoto's cock. He laps and curls and flicks until Yamamoto is letting out the softest moans, raspy and just as needy. It makes Hayato smirk because it's in those moans he's gained some control back because he knows Yamamoto can't contain himself much longer.

He leans in once more and Yamamoto let's him, allows his cock to finally slide past Hayato's lips and into his mouth. He uses the grip he has on Hayato's hair to push into him further, far enough so that he fills Hayato's mouth and his head nudges the back if his throat yet his lips haven't even reached the base yet.

Yamamoto elicits a hiss of pleasure and slides into him once more and this time Hayato moans, deep and throaty as to make sure the vibration reaches the depths of his groin. He wants to taste more, he wants Yamamoto to fuck his mouth the way he wants to fuck him. Rough and hard, frantic and frenzied. But he doesn't.

He pulls out and Hayato grazes his teeth along his shaft, tries to use his mouth to pull him back in but that only earns him another hard tug at the back of his head.

"Enough." One word, spoken like a command and Hayato complies.

There's another shift in movement and Hayato feels the heat of breath and Yamamoto's lips coming down on his and for a second, he wants to kiss him. But he remembers his words and decides to own them so he turns his head to avoid those soft and full and sweet tasting lips.

"I said no kissing," he says, just as firm as Yamamoto had spoken just seconds before. Yamamoto is still above him, and he hears a bit of a chuckle, but it's dry and sardonic.

"Ma ma... Like I said before, Hayato's body is just as good. Your skin is so beautiful, soft and white and marked by my mouth."

Hayato felt him trace the raw flesh where he had bit and sucked, no doubt having left marks all over his skin. He felt Yamamoto's lips and tongue and teeth back over his chest again, working their way down to his now erect cock. His patience was wearing thin, there was only so much foreplay he could take before enough was enough. He wanted to be inside Yamamoto, feel his warmth and tightness clench down around him, feel him quiver and quake as he came beneath him.

"Take this off, uncuff me now."

"Not yet."

"Fuck you, Takeshi. Fuck you. Do you want me to beg? Because I ain't going to. If you're not going to let me fuck you, uncuff me and go home."

Yamamoto laughed and kissed down the inside if his thigh. "Shh," he said, his breath wet against Hayato's skin. "Have just a little more patience."

Hayato's protest was lost when he felt Yamamoto lean back and undress him completely, removing his shoes and jeans slowly and meticulously. His slightly callused hands glided up Hayato's thighs and he nipped and kissed the insides. His mouth landed on Hayato's cock again, hot and wet and he nearly came apart then too.

He felt Yamamoto palm each of his thighs to spread them apart, mouth still sliding up and down his cock excruciatingly slow. Then just Yamamoto's tongue was on him, the rough flatness lapping over his head. Hayato shuddered and groaned and then gasped in surprise when he felt the tip of Yamamoto's tongue dragged down the crease of his ass.

"Oi," Hayato breathed. Anxiety began to rise, curdling in his stomach. "D-don't."

Yamamoto didn't respond and he didn't stop as fingers pried him open and the heat of the wet muscle swept over his cleft, his hole and his perineum.

Hayato drew in a sharp breath and flinched. Before he could open his mouth, Yamamoto's tongue repeated the same action, only slower. His stomach pulled tight and another breath hitched in his throat as his lungs seized. Yamamoto's tongue laved up his ass again, slow still but he pressed harder with the flat of his tongue and a strangled moan dripped off Hayato's lips.

"Mm... such a lewd sound. Do you like this, Hayato?"

"Nn-no," he panted, finally as his lungs let go and he gulped in quick, shallow gulps of air. "I said... said don't." He tried to move his arms again but they were numb and heavy, nothing but dead weight above his head. His eyes were wide beyond the blindfold but all he saw was darkness.

But Yamamoto didn't listen and he did it again, harder and hungrier but still tentatively slow.

Tension ripped through Hayato's body, tightening every inch of muscle till they cramped. His heart so thudded hard he could hear it over the rushing blood that pounded between his ears.

He wasn't sure, he wasn't ready. He didn't want this. He tried to push the anxiety away, tried to feel the pleasure beneath it all but all he could feel was the sense of violation and exploitation. Emasculation and helplessness. He twitched and shifted, tried to move his lower half away from Yamamoto to make his point clear. But Yamamoto had a point to make clear too, when he bit down on his inner thigh so hard that Hayato jumped and hissed in surprise.

"Don't move," he commanded sharply, fingers pressed harshly into his skin.

Hayato couldn't take it anymore.

Yamamoto's switch between benevolence and malevolence was driving Hayato crazy. He couldn't catch a break and now he was starting to panic. This game of teasing had gone beyond erotic and playful to just plain sadistic and Hayato didn't do sadistic. Or at least he wasn't going to be the _victim_ of Yamamoto's sadism. He was slowly beginning to realize that he had lost complete control over the situation and there was no way of turning the tables. Yamamoto had the upper hand and that didn't sit well with him.

And then he felt it.

In spite if everything, he froze completely. Even his breathing stopped. The knowledge of what he felt pressed against his ringed muscle, soft but firm in small almost soothing circles, sent him into a frenzy and he snapped.

He pulled on his arms, tugging furiously at the cuffs around his wrists, chaffing and burning and cutting into already raw skin. He felt warmth trickle down his forearms. He thrashed and kicked and bucked off the bed, snarling and sputtering slurs of whatever flew off his lips.

"Fuck you, you bastard! Let me go now you crazy fucker! Enough! Enough! This is enough already!" he shouted, horrified at the tremble in his voice.

He felt Yamamoto loom over him, felt his hands cup his face, framing them between broad palms as he straddled him, his thighs pressing hard against Hayato's hips.

Hayato still struggled, but it was near impossible to move underneath Yamamoto's weight.

"I said that's enough! You've gone too far and I want out!" Hayato screeched, the tendons in his neck straining and his vocal chords taut. His voiced echoed off the hollow walls of the motel room, resounding in his ears.

He felt Yamamoto lean in and felt his warm breath on his neck as he whispered in his ear.

"I... I love Gokudera."

Hayato stopped moving abruptly. His heart skipped a beat and stilled.

"I want to be Gokudera's forever..."

A hand slipped up his cheek and fingers tangled slowly and affectionately through his hair.

"Won't you let me show you?"

Hayato breathed heavily and could find no words to respond. What Yamamoto was asking for was too much of himself to give and he wasn't prepared for that at all.

Fingers slipped underneath the blindfold and slid it back into his hair. At first, all Hayato could see was a black abyss while his eyes struggled to adjust to the darkness. And then a car drove by, the highbeams cascading a florescent pool of light over Yamamoto's face and though only briefly, the image etched itself into Hayato's mind like he had witnessed it for an eternity.

Yamamoto's features were soft, subtle. Nothing like the feral and menacing darkness that clouded them earlier. His lips were parted slightly, questionably and his eyes were warm and anticipating. _Honest _and innocent.

But Hayato grew up in a world where looks were deceiving and anyone would tell you what you'd want to hear just to get what they wanted. He wasn't that gullible six year old brat who believed his father's wife was his mother or that his sister just accidentally poisoned him because she was bad at cooking, not because she was jealous that Hayato stole all of the attention. He wasn't that thirteen year old brat that believed Shamal took care of him because he loved him, showed him he cared by letting him smoke and drink at that age, or showed him how to be a man by letting his strung out and drunk party dates nearly rape him on several occasions.

And now, he definitely wasn't a man that he believed could be loved by anyone. There was never a time where he was.

"You... you bastard! Don't just go throwing those words around so carelessly! Have you no shame? Telling people those things just so you can fuck them? Honestly -"

"I know," Yamamoto interjected with a sigh. "I know it's hard for Gokudera to trust people... for whatever reason. But I... truly love Gokudera and _only _Gokudera."

Hayato silently fumed and mulled these words over and over in his head until they became near incoherent as Yamamoto reached behind him. His mind derailed when Yamamoto's fingertips traced over his arms gently, through the ribbons of blood that had began to coagulate. He heard a soft _plink_ and latch as Yamamoto removed the cuffs, dropping them to the bed and caught his heavy arms with his hands. Hayato hissed from the sharp pain and the numbness, the blood in his veins suddenly rushing to the parts that had been without for so long.

Yamamoto took both Hayato's hands in his and pressed them against his hard chest. Hayato felt the palpitations under his palms, fast and erratic and hard like his has been moments before.

"Do you feel that, Hayato? It's a funny thing, the heart... It's an organ with only one function and that's to keep us alive. It's got no mind of its own yet it races when I see you, hurts when I miss you, stops when I think I can't be with you. My heart beats for Gokudera alone, and nothing else."

The weight of Yamamoto's words felt heavy on his chest. Felt heavy in his heart and shit, he wasn't in a position to disagree because what Yamamoto said was true. The heart is a stupid organ, going against its sole purpose of functionality and getting a mind of its own. His too, raced when he was with Yamamoto. It wrenched when he thought of being without him, giving him up to protect him. It seized when he thought to forget him by erasing him out of his memory, out of his heart by being with someone else. The heart, _his _heart made his mind all fucked up and unable to process normal thoughts. It gave him emotions he had never felt before and still didn't want to feel because he didn't quite understand them.

And that's what he was good at. Running away and shutting down when something he couldn't understand scared him, when something he couldn't process logically made him flee in the other direction and never look back.

Yamamoto folded his hands into his and let them drop to each side while he leaned in and kissed him, brushing his lips tentatively and testing. Hayato was still, waiting for his mind to make reason of all this.

When he didn't respond, Yamamoto kissed the tip of his nose before letting go of his hands and running his own through Hayato's hair, cupping each side of his head between them.

"Just give me all of you, Hayato. I _will _love you and you won't... you won't have to be lonely ever again."

Something had lodged itself in his throat, something hard he couldn't swallow. It hurt when he gulped and tried to breathe and his heart felt as heavy as lead. He didn't need to see Yamamoto's eyes to know the conviction in them, he heard it in his voice. The raw and honest conviction, a vow to take responsibility. A lifetime commitment.

And so Hayato thought. In his world there were many deals made, many contracts signed, negotiations being litigated and none of them came with a price so high. This wasn't a bargain, an exchange for an offer or favor. This was a promise, nothing cheap and trivial and to Hayato it was something monumental. People often make promises they can't keep but do they do it with such an earnest expression? Do they offer something so big for something so little in return? Deals were often made with offers with equal value, and Yamamoto wasn't just asking for sex.

He was asking for love.

And Hayato wasn't sure if he could return it, he wasn't even sure what it was but if what he felt fell under that emotion then he already had what Yamamoto wanted. And until he knew for sure, he could never tell him those words but he wanted to show him that he felt something similar. Hayato was tired of running.

Drawing in a shaky breath he uttered one word that would make or break him but he'd worry about the consequences later, because Hayato was heedless and reckless just as much as he was calculated and collective.

And he said it real low and quick, barely above an audible whisper because he needed to get it off his lips before his brain really did catch up and put a screeching halt to his temporary insanity.

"Yes... what, Hayato?" asked Yamamoto, leaning back on his heels, his naked ass brushing against Hayato's already stiff erection.

Hayato propped himself up on his elbows and scowled. "Fuck you, do I need to repeat myself? You really want to give me the opportunity to second guess myself, you bastard?"

"Haha, no... I guess not."

"Che... what an idiot."

Yamamoto chuckled and Hayato surged up to kiss him, capturing his injured lip in between his teeth. He winced but held Hayato steady, pressing his fingertips into his shoulders. Hayato grabbed onto his tongue and sucked hard, finally delving his fingers into Yamamoto's hair and clutching at the feather soft locks. And just when he thought he had managed to gain some control again, Yamamoto shoved him down on the bed and pounced on him, fiercely attacking Hayato's already tender neck with his teeth.

Hayato hissed and tugged at Yamamoto's hair while thrusting his hips up seeking friction from Yamamoto and he didn't need to do it twice before Yamamoto ground down on him, hard while he moaned into his ear. His one hand flew up into Hayato's hair and pulled while the other made its way down to his chest, finding a hard nipple and rubbed it with his thumb.

Hayato let out a moan of his own, feeling a tingling sensation move from the tips of his toes to the base of his spine. "Come on, _Takeshi,_" he growled, reaching between their hips to grasp Yamamoto's cock.

Yamamoto lapped up the side of his neck and groaned in his ear. "Unh... I love it when you say my name... say it again."

Hayato scoffed and tugged at Yamamoto's dick. "Hn? Weren't you going to _make _me say it by the time you were done with me? How can I take anything you say seriously when you can't even keep that promise?"

Yamamoto stopped and turned his head to look at Hayato, eyes dark with a predatory hunger. He smashed his lips hard against Hayato's and their teeth smacked and their tongues flew out, messily locking. He pulled away and nipped at Hayato's bottom lip and chin, biting down hard on his throat.

"Hayato's so seductive... you'll only ever talk that way to me, understand?"

"Yeah... fuck, whatever." He pumped Yamamoto in erratic and uneven strokes, barely being able to contain the pleasure he felt when his cock rubbed against Yamamoto's.

Yamamoto tugged on his hair, so hard that Hayato felt it in the roots, his scalp tingling. "Only me, Hayato. Got it?"

A shudder passed through him and goosebumps prickled his flesh. He was so turned on, he never thought he could feel lust like this, so primitive and carnal yet it was more than just that, it was their connection that made the fuse between them ignite into an explosion of raw passion.

"Yeah," he breathed. "I got it."

Yamamoto pulled away from him then, out of Hayato's reach and for a second Hayato felt a flash of panic, fearing he had said the wrong thing the wrong way and put an end to their mutual concession.

But that thought was quickly tossed out the window when Yamamoto fit himself between Hayato's legs and put his mouth around his cock without a word. Heat flared and spread throughout his chest and his hands found their way back into Yamamoto's hair, pressing his head down and forcing him to take all of him and he didn't stop until he felt the tip of his cock hit the back of Yamamoto's throat.

"Takeshi," he groaned, thrusting his hips froward. He was rewarded with a chuckle that resonated down to the base of his cock and he nearly came.

Yamamoto pressed his hands into the hollows of Hayato's hips and drove them down hard into the mattress, freeing his mouth of Hayato's cock and in the same swift motion, he spread Hayato's legs apart and licked down the crease of his ass.

"Fuck," Hayato murmured as he felt himself tense up but it didn't stop Yamamoto's ministrations. That was good, he didn't want to stop. He wasn't going to think this time, he was just going to _feel_ and the heat of Yamamoto's tongue pressing hard against his entrance felt fucking amazing.

Yamamoto must have noticed he had relaxed a little because the trash of his tongue was more aggressive than before. Hayato didn't know what to do with his hands so he stroked his own cock while he imagined it was Yamamoto's instead.

He felt the nudge of a fingertip and stiffened, but Yamamoto gave him a warning nip on his cheek and followed it with his tongue. "Relax," he said, his breath wet and hot against Hayato's ass. "You're mine and I'm yours now. Just give in and stop resisting already."

Hayato propped himself up on his elbows again and shoved Yamamoto's head back down between his legs. No one tells him what to do.

"Shut up and get back to work," he growled with a smirk.

Yamamoto hummed and Hayato could feel him grin against this thigh. "As you wish," he said and his tongue lashed out and found its way back along the path of Hayato's ass. His finger also made its way back there, slowly pressing against him. Hayato concentrated on his breathing, trying to calm himself into enjoying the pleasure instead of panicking.

He felt Yamamoto press his fingertip against his hole, teasing and rubbing in small circles, pushing in slightly every so often. It felt weird and foreign but enthralling all at the same time. Yamamoto eased his way in, swirling his tongue between his finger and Hayato's ass.

"_Aah!_" he breathed and the first bit of this new experience began to take its toll on him. He could feel the heavy pressure weighing deep in his groin and Yamamoto added a second finger. That burned, just a little and the intrusion was uncomfortable more than anything. But he bit down on his lip and gripped the bed sheets as Yamamoto twisted and curled his fingers.

He was wet down there, he could feel it. The sounds were mortifying, the slick _shwick shwick _noise Yamamoto's fingers made slipping in and out of him made his whole body flush with heat. He couldn't hold back the breathless moans that fluttered off his lips as his legs trembled and his body quaked.

He helplessly whimpered, hurting his manly pride, when Yamamoto withdrew his fingers and left him feeling empty.

Fuck... he couldn't believe that he just made that noise. The power Yamamoto held that brought him to his knees was embarrassing.

Yamamoto hummed to himself and chuckled. "Gokudera's so cute, it's so unfair," he said as he kissed up his thigh.

"Sh-shut up, bastard." Hayato's face burned and he couldn't catch a breath.

He felt the bed dip to the side and he heard rummaging through the darkness. The darkness that was the back of his eyelids because now the sun was beginning to rise and Hayato couldn't bear to open his eyes to see Yamamoto's face. He was too ashamed at what he had been reduced to.

He heard the clinking of his belt and a soft _thup_ and he guessed Yamamoto had gone searching for something in his jeans. Curiosity piqued and frustration growing, unsurety beginning to settle in.

It was then he opened his eyes and looked over at Yamamoto who looked absolutely fucking edible.

Sweat sheen brow and hair an unruly mess, he currently had a foil packet set between his teeth and his lips were bruised and plump red. His eyes were set and focused and when he caught Hayato looking, he grinned.

"What are you doing, you idiot? Who stops in the middle of all this to what... is that a _condom?_" Hayato asked, now infuriated and insulted. "I'm clean, you fucking bastard."

"I know," Yamamoto said, tearing though the packet with his teeth. He took eyes of Hayato long enough to look down as he slipped the latex over his hardened shaft, peeking our through his lashes to see if Hayato was watching.

And if course Hayato was watching. Though fuming still, how could he not watch as this incredibly alluring man rolled the latex down over his cock meticulously and seductively slow.

"It's to make it easier for you and well, for me too. That's what this is for also," he said, holding out his palm to reveal another foil packet that Hayato recognized as the lubricant he carries with him on nights like these.

When he thought back to what he was about to do with some man he cared nothing about just hours earlier, it made him shudder in disgust. The thought of being with someone other than Yamamoto made him feel nauseous and dirty and it was a weird feeling to have. Yamamoto was all he needed to satiate his sexual hunger, all he needed to fill every void he had ever felt up until this point. It wasn't a question of monogamy but Yamamoto was his now and he be damned if he wasn't going to be selfish about it. He wouldn't see him with anyone else and the thought of it made him feel just as crazy so much so that it made him understand a little, Yamamoto's need to claim him as his own too.

Hayato rolled his eyes and scoffed. "I know what that's for, idiot."

"Okay... just saying because... it's gonna hurt, you know."

Hayato felt his face flare up and a slow panic worked its way though his gut. "Idiot! Don't go telling people that before you do it! Where's the other Yamamoto, hm? Bring him out, you crazy fucker. He's not as stupid." Hayato averted his eyes and caught a glimpse of the sunrise beyond the curtained window of motel.

He heard the other foil packet open and a laugh from Yamamoto. When he felt hands on his thighs, he turned to come face to face with Yamamoto as he leaned in close. His eyes were narrowed and clouded and he grinned menacingly. Hayato shivered with just that one look, heat pooling in his belly.

"Are you sure you want _that _Takeshi?" he asked suggestively, licking his lips.

Hayato reached up and let his hand card through Yamamoto's hair almost lovingly until he found purchase at the nape of his neck. He grabbed a fistful of short black hair and tugged sharply, smirking.

"Yes... I want _that_ Takeshi. I want _all _of Takeshi," Hayato said, accentuating those heady words by licking a hard stripe over his Adam's apple and the scar on his chin.

Yamamoto uttered a low, guttural growl and shoved Hayato back down into the mattress and kissed him feverishly. He straddled him and ground down hard for good measure, his cock hard and ready. Hayato bit and sucked at Yamamoto's neck, hungrily as overwhelming desire flooded his being.

Yamamoto worked his way down Hayato's torso once more and stopped just short of his cock to squeeze lubricant out on to his fingers and lathered it onto his latex clad dick.

The reality of what was about to happen hit Hayato hard with sobriety and he felt himself begin to panic once more, feeling like he was suffocating as his lungs tightened and he struggled to draw in air. Images of being thirteen and in Shamal's apartment, being violated and emasculated raced through his mind and he hadn't realized before that maybe this is where it all stemmed from. Or perhaps it came from before, his anxiety, from being told by his father that he wasn't good enough, that a whiny pansy brat like him could never be a real man. It hadn't occurred to him at all that this might be the reason for his need to be dominant and overpowering and having all the control until he was about to hand over his manhood to a man he barely knew but was so helplessly captivated by.

The man he was so helplessly in _love_ with.

Before going further, Yamamoto looked up at him and rubbed his cock in slow even strokes. "Relax Hayato... I'm not doing this to hurt you."

He knew this, he _believed _this, but it did nothing to ease the tension.

Yamamoto kissed the head of his cock, his abdomen and back down his shaft. "I'm doing this because I love Gokudera and I want to show him my love with the only way he understands."

And with those words said, Yamamoto swallowed his cock and the instant heat rushed through his veins, relaxing his muscles and loosening his lungs. He let out a breath that came out like a moan but he didn't care how he sounded at this moment. Yamamoto took advantage of Hayato melting undneath him to plunge two fingers in and Hayato did flinch and tense but Yamamoto's hot mouth worked him out again.

Hayato's hands clung to Yamamoto's hair and slid down his face when Yamamoto looked up at him again, dark arousal sparked in his eyes and for a second there was a flash of concern as his fingers inside Hayato ceased movement.

"Are you sure you want to do this?"

Hayato dug his fingernails into Yamamoto's cheeks and scowled. "Just shut your mouth and fuck me already, bastard. I told you I ain't gonna beg."

Yamamoto pushed himself up on his knees and forcefully grabbed Hayato's thighs, throwing each leg around his waist. Hayato felt the coolness of the lubricant in between his ass and the heat of Yamamoto's cock against it. There was a little anxiety still, but the yearning for release was far more present in the pit of his stomach. The want for Yamamoto was overwhelming.

"Once I'm in... I won't be able to hold back. I won't be able to stop if it hurts," Yamamoto said with just the slightest sly grin.

"Fuck you. I'm not a girl, you fucking idiot. I don't wantyou to make love to me, I want you to _fuck _me. Fuck me, Takeshi." Hayato ground his ass against Yamamoto's hardness and Yamamoto growled, grabbing one of Hayato's thighs and spreading him open.

He took his cock in his other hand and Hayato soon felt the blunt edge of his head push into him. The stretch of something not meant to be expanded to fit a cock, especially one like Yamamoto's, burned searing hot. Hayato tensed and gripped the bed sheets, white knuckle and bloodless.

"You have to relax, Hayato or I won't fit. You're really tight."

Hayato squeezed his eyes shut as heat spread quickly throughout his cheeks and ears. "Sh-shut up... don't say shit like that."

But he steadied his breathing and tried to relax and Yamamoto pushed further into him, so slow and excruciating. Some sort of strangled noise made its way up his throat and out of his mouth when Yamamoto eased into him more, filling him up inch by inch.

The overbearing pressure was intense but Hayato eased up, allowing more of Yamamoto to enter him, relishing in the pleasurable stretch and burn he felt. The pain was almost comforting, hitting some spot in the back of his head reveling that somewhere somehow, in his mind this is exactly how this should be. Painful enough to remind him that that he was still human, that he could still _feel _things and comforting enough to know that he could relax and be free. Yamamoto was the one person he didn't have to hide from. If what he said was true, he loved all of Hayato and he could be himself, whoever that was, and Yamamoto would never judge.

A snap of Yamamoto's hips jolted him out of revelation as he entered Hayato fully to the hilt and he cried out loudly. Realizing how wanton he sounded, he clamped down hard in his lips with the edges of his teeth and breaking the skin in the process. Fuck, that hurt. More than he had anticipated.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to hurt Gokudera!" said Yamamoto frantically. "I kinda lost it for a minute. We should stop. Are you-"

Drawing in a sharp breath and exhaling deeply, Hayato composed himself. Sort of. He was really annoyed at this point, so much so it was threatening his erection.

"Jesus fucking Christ, Yamamoto. I'm not fucking breakable like a little school girl. I'm a fucking man and I can take it! Now shut the fuck up and _move_!"

Yamamoto stared down at him in an expression of disbelief but behind that he saw something carnivorous. An intense hunger that made Hayato's adrenaline spike off the charts.

"Okay," he said, grin feral.

Yamamoto moved sharply, snapping his hips so hard they slapped against Hayato's ass and he stifled cries and hissed through erratic thrusts. It hurt like fucking hell, yes, more than all the times he had been shot. It hurt worse than having to see his sister's face early in the morning after a long night of drinking and a debilitating hangover. It made Hayato seriously want to die at points and several times he had thought who the fuck in their right mind would want to do something this goddamn painful. He obviously wasn't in his right mind.

Hayato should probably have given himself more time to adjust but the whole fucking night had been one big frustrating game of stop and go. He had been through hours of cocktease and he was sore and exhausted. He wanted to release all of these emotions coiled tightly within him because he knew what that would lead to. The pent up feelings, the experience of his first time and the things that came with it and finally just being able to feel Yamamoto move against him in a blinding frenzy of lust would make him come apart at the seams. It would be an explosion of epic proportions well worth the wait.

At some point, Yamamoto released his grip on Hayato's legs and grabbed onto his hands, folding them above his head, closing the gap between them. He began to slow his pace and Hayato relaxed a little bit. To smell Yamamoto, to touch him and taste him was all something Hayato needed to aid himself in seeking pleasure from this whole experience. Only then did it start to feel good, some of the pain subsiding, losing to a sensation that Hayato didn't have a name for.

"Does it feel good, Hayato?"

"Nn... don't talk," he murmured through a moan.

"Do you understand now how much I want you? How much I _need_ you to be mine?" asked Yamamoto, punctuating _mine _with a hard thrust. He hit that sensitive bundle of nerves deep inside Hayato and it made him see white.

"_Mm__!_" Hayato blurted, somewhere in between a stifled cry and an affirmation of Yamamoto's question.

"Say it, Hayato. I need you to _say __it_," Yamamoto panted, raspy and sultry, jerking his hips hard as he hit that spot again.

"Fuck! Yes, I'm yours... fuck, I am so yours, you crazy bastard," Hayato groaned. He bit down on Yamamoto's shoulder and he groaned in response, rolling his hips, driving himself in deep.

"_Aaah! _Jesus fuck..."

"That's right," Yamamoto snarled heatedly against his skin. "You are mine. Don't you forget that."

Heat flushed his body, his insides were flaring. Hayato tried to breathe, tried to focus on on _anything_ that would keep him afloat but Yamamoto kept his fast paced rhythm, sometimes grazing and sometimes hitting that same spot that made Hayato cry out every time, drowning him in a pool full of lechery. His cock dragged across Yamamoto's rigid and chiseled stomach, each time leaving a damp, sticky trail. He dug his fingernails into Yamamoto's hands; sank his teeth into Yamamoto's flesh, each time tasting sweat and salt and flatness and the taste of Yamamoto's skin was like an aphrodisiac to him. Unbridled pleasure mounted within him until the pressure became to much and Hayato's climax ripped right through him like a speeding bullet, straight from the tips of his toes that curled and jolting like sharp lightning bolts at the base of his spine. It left him literally seeing stars as red and green and black dots flittered his field of vision. He was so lost in his rapture, picking up the mental pieces of himself scattered all over the place, that he hadn't noticed Yamamoto had come too until he flopped down on top of him, gasping for air.

"Nn... heavy," he complained.

"Ah... sorry," Yamamoto muttered tiredly. He pushed himself up and eased out.

There was the initial tenderness and rawness that made Hayato hiss and bite down on his lip in pain but then he felt empty and deprived. He watched Yamamoto pull off the condom and tie it, tossing it to the floor and trudge to the bathroom.

Hayato suddenly became very aware of how much every part of his body ached and throbbed. When he shifted in the bed to make a move. towards the bathroom as well, he winced as jarring pain ripped through his lower half. Growling and frustrated, he flopped back down into the pillows and sulked. That damned idiot had put him out of commission for at least a day, just when he was getting back to being able to move freely after his leg injury. Fuck this guy... and dammit, was he ever stupid. It's not like he regretted what he had just done because to some extent he enjoyed it and mostly because he just needed to get off, but now he had set himself back and put himself in a vulnerable position if the Bovino men happened to find Bianchi before he and Shamal did. More importantly, how the fuck was he going to explain the severe ligature marks on his wrists and the numerous bite marks and hickeys he was bound to have?

Yamamoto came strutting out of the bathroom, looking as rugged and tired as Hayato felt, with a wad of tissues and a damp cloth. He looked up at Hayato with a somber smile. Hayato worked himself into a sitting position, drawing his knees to his naked chest and draping an arm across them.

It was odd, the feeling that he got. The nuance he read from that smile disturbed him. Naturally, questions about how Yamamoto felt about what just happened started piling up, filling all the space in his skull. It could be that he didn't like it at all, maybe Hayato didn't perform well... maybe now that the rageful lust was gone, he was second guessing their relationship. After all, Yamamoto had laid some heavyset words on Hayato during this whole exchange, perhaps he was regretting all the things he had said because he hadn't really meant them in the first place. Because maybe it really was all just a ploy to get what he wanted out of Hayato.

Yamamoto stood at the foot of the bed and eyed him cautiously.

Hayato's heart thudded hard against his rib cage.

"Hayato... I... I'm sorry I -"

His heart lept into his throat and his stomach churned. "I knew it," he blurted, his mouth acting before he sought out reason. "I knew you were lying. It's fine. Go home, I want to sleep." He avoided Yamamoto's eyes and rested his head on his arm laid out over his knees.

"Eh? Lying? About what?" Yamamoto's voice was laced with surprise and confusion.

"About the things you said earlier. I said it's fine, just go home already." He really didn't want to have this conversation.

"What things...oh. _Oh. _Hayato, do you still not believe me?"

"What?"

He felt the edge of the mattress depress under Yamamoto's weight as he crawled across the bed and tilted Hayato's chin. Hayato refused to look at him.

"Everything I said before, I meant. I really do love you."

Heat crept across his cheeks and reached the tips of Hayato's ears. "Then why... why do you look like that?" he asked, suddenly feeling very unguarded and wide open. He didn't like this feeling.

"Because... because I hurt Gokudera and I didn't mean to. I just... I just get too carried away and I'm a really bad person for taking advantage of Gokudera like that. I'm really, really sorry."

Hayato glanced at him incredulously. Yamamoto's eyes were solemn, his mouth was frowning. For someone who just got what he wanted, he didn't seem very happy at all.

"Che... you didn't hurt me, you idiot. Is that what you're worried about?" Relief flooded every crevice of his body and he felt incredibly stupid. Such vulnerability was embarrassing and not fitting of a man of Hayato's prestige. He was beginning to feel like more of an idiot than Yamamoto was, if that was even possible.

"Of course it's what I'm worried about! B-because I forced myself on Gokudera-"

"You didn't force yourself on me, idiot."

"And I thought... I thought that Gokudera would hate it, hate _me_ for what I did."

Hayato sighed. "I don't hate you."

Some brightness found it's way into Yamamoto's eyes and a smile tugged at his lips but it didn't reach his eyes like it usually did. It was still sad and bleak.

"Did you hate it?"

Hayato felt himself blushing again. "I... I didn't hate it... not really."

Yamamoto threw his arms around Hayato and squeezed. Hayato was still sore and the pain was mounting immensely. He winced and hissed and Yamamoto quickly let go.

"Sorry... it's just that Gokudera makes me so happy-"

"Stop apologizing already, it's fucking annoying. Now are you coming to bed? Because I'm dead fucking tired."

"But what about all the blood on your arms... from what I did to you? Can I at least-"

"No, I don't care about that. I can wash it off after," Hayato said with a yawn and Yamamoto laughed.

"Bastard, what's so funny about this situation?"

"Haha, Gokudera really is cute."

Hayato reached over and pinched Yamamoto's nipple. "Shut up and go to sleep."

"Ow! That hurt," he whined and Hayato glared at him. "Ma ma, okay. Here, come under the blankets." Yamamoto shifted and pulled back the cheap feeling blankets. He waited for Hayato to work his way under before slipping underneath them himself.

"Next time you decide to get kinky, let's do it at your place. Sleeping in these beds really disgust me," Hayato muttered.

"Haha, alright," Yamamoto replied tiredly. He pulled Hayato close to him, not leaving an inch of empty space between their bodies and draped an arm across his waist.

Hayato was grateful for sleep. He loved it, wished he could sleep every minute of the day sometimes, especially nights like these. What made it even better was the warm body against his back, the chin resting on his shoulder and the subtle breathing he heard in his ear. He was near sudden blackout when he felt Yamamoto's hand glided up his chest and his fingers tangled in Hayato's rosary.

"Ne... Gokudera... This cross you wear... Do you believe in God?"

Hayato felt like this was a conversation to deep for him to have right now and he wasn't having anything of it, so he answered Yamamoto's question with, "Mm."

"Do you believe that God brought us together for a reason?"

"Idiot," Hayato muttered. "Go to sleep."

"I just wanted to say that I think he did. Gokudera came into my life at just the right time, just when I needed saving."

And this confession made Hayato's eyes go wide and his face flush with heat and his heart skip several hard beats. He didn't say anything and Yamamoto fell silent. He breathed an inward sigh of relief and began to drift off only to be jarred out of slumber yet again.

""Ne, Gokudera?"

Hayato groaned. "What, Yamamoto?"

"What happened tonight... it won't happen again, right?"

Really? He picked now to ask about kinky sex? What a fucking pervert.

"If you don't let me sleep, it will _never_ happen again. Ever. I'll abstain from having sex with you for good. Now shut up and sleep."

"No," Yamamoto said seriously. "Not that. I mean... you, with someone else. You won't do that again, right?"

Oh. _That_.

Hayato sighed. In the end, dark side or not, Yamamoto really was just an innocent and insecure guy. His other persona was fun to play with but this is who Hayato really liked. This was the real Yamamoto, idiotic and kind of bashful; clueless and naive and pure. It made him realize once again that Yamamoto was the perfect fit to the complexity that was Hayato Gokudera. As cliche as it sounded, he was Hayato's missing puzzle piece. That someone that made him feel whole, the person that had everything he needed to fill the void he had felt for so long.

Heart happy and smiling to himself, Hayato took Yamamoto's hand in his and squeezed. "Hey, baseball idiot... Have you already forgotten? I'm yours and you're mine now, right? Don't ask such stupid questions."

He felt Yamamoto's chin stretch as he smiled and Hayato didn't need to look to see the brightness in it. He hugged Hayato tighter and nuzzled into his hair. Normally this closeness would annoy him, but Hayato would let Yamamoto have this one too, just this one time.

"I really love you, Gokudera."

"Shut up and go to sleep."


	18. Book I : My Saint : Chapter XVIII

**_Chapter XVIII_**

* * *

_"Uncle Shamal, Uncle Shamal!"_

_His childish voice echoed loudly off the fine Italian marble tiles lining the empty corridor. This castle seems much too big for such a tiny boy. _

_A tall man, with rich chocolate brown hair that sweeps over his eyes and shoulders when he moves, turns slowly and greets the boy with a smile._

_"Whaddaya want, brat?" he asks, his voice smooth like silk. He's a smooth operator, a negotiator by nature. _

_The boy __manages__ to catch up to the man, out of breath and with a wide grin on his face. His silver hair frames his round, angelic face and his sparkling jade eyes are wide with enthusiasm._

_"Uncle Shamal! Will you come play with me? Show me that trick again, the ones with the paper airplanes!" he says excitedly._

_This man, Shamal, __is the little boy's uncle but not by blood. At this age, the little boy doesn't know that. He's six years old and the only thing he knows is that this man spends more time with him than his own father does, because his father is always busy. He's the only person that's left._

_"Tch... don't you have someone your own age you can play with?" Shamal teases._

_The boy is always happy, despite feeling really lonely a lot of the time. He's very bright, and knows when he's being messed with._

_Rolling his eyes, he says, "You know that I don't. Bianchi is always making me eat stuff that makes me sick and all the maids are boring." He scrunches up his nose and waves his hand in front of his face. "And they smell like old ladies because Mom doesn't want pretty ladies to work here." _

_Shamal barks out a laugh and looks at the boy incredulously. "Now where'd ya hear that, kid?"_

_The boy smirks and crosses his arms over his chest. "I have my sources. C'mon Uncle Shamal! Show me that really cool trick where you throw the bombs at the planes and hit them like 'Bullseye!'" He makes exploding sounds with his mouth and emphasizes with his hands. _

_Shamal can't help but laugh and he tousles the boy's hair. "Fine, fine. But only for a little while. You'll have to learn it one of these days, I can't always be here to play with you, brat." _

_"I will, you better believe it! I'll get so good with those bombs that you'll be asking me to teach you that trick!" _

_They make their way to one of the many terraces that line his father's castle. The boy thinks it's grand, he still gets lost in it. He's gotten better though, he's needed to find hiding spots for when his sister comes to play with him. The boy doesn't like to play with his older sister, she's mean and weird. Sometimes she's forcing things down his throat that make him really, really sick and other times she's always stroking his hair, always wanting to play with it but she gets mad sometimes and pulls it. She's even cut it once. The boy doesn't quite understand it yet, but he thinks she may be jealous of him. He doesn't know why, since she gets all the attention from their parents, especially their mother._

_He doesn't like his mother much either, she's very cruel when she's alone with him. She hits him and scolds him and calls him names when his father isn't around to hear. He doesn't quite understand that either, but he feels no connection to this woman. He doesn't feel like she loves him, so he often avoids her too._

_There are always people here, coming and going but there is no one that interests him. There was a lady a long time ago, so long ago that the boy can barely remember her face. She used to come and teach him to play piano and she was the nicest lady in the whole world. She was kind and spoke softly, always with a smile on her face. The little boy can't even remember her name, if she even had one. He enjoyed the company of this woman and worked hard on his lessons to please her. She didn't come often but then she stopped coming altogether. When he asked his father, he was told to get lost and that he was nothing but a reminder of all his father's failures in life. When he asked his mother, she told him to never mention that tramp in her presence again - whatever that meant. And when he asked his sister, she told him it was because he was bad. Bad at playing the piano, bad at playing with his sister and just a bad boy in general. _

_The boy cried for a few days, but like any resilient child his age, he eventually got over it and didn't much think of her anymore. Except for today. Today, even though Uncle Shamal was playing with him, he was exceptionally lonely._

_"Hey," he began, tugging at Shamal's suit sleeve. "Whatever happened to that lady that came to teach me piano?" _

_Shamal looks down at him with confusion. "What are you talking about, Luciano? She's right there," he said, pointing to the little boy's hands._

_"What...?" The boy looks down at his hands and they're covered in a red, sticky substance. Paint? No... he hadn't been painting._

_"Wha... what is this?" he asks, his voice trembling._

_Shamal looks confused, like this is something the boy should already know. "It's blood, Luciano. The blood of that woman, your mother. Her blood is on your hands."_

Hayato jolted upright, jarred out of sleep by the recurring nightmare that had seared itself into his memory. His chest was tight and his stomach was in knots. He could feel himself trembling and he struggled to breathe.

He scanned the cheap motel room and found that he was alone. He was always alone. There was blood on his hands, but not the blood of his mother's this time. Shamal wasn't in the room and neither was Yamamoto. He was alone and frightened, like the little boy in his dream.

The nightmare only came when he was stressed out, when he felt nothing but regret and right now he was terrified with dirtying his hands with the blood of the Bovino men.

These men could have sons, daughters, brothers or sisters. They were sons. He didn't want any more blood on his hands. He didn't have a choice. These men were coming to kill his sister, maybe himself and Yamamoto too. He had to take care of them before anyone else got hurt. They've killed before, probably innocent people like his mother, who all she did wrong was give birth to him. He'd gladly give his life in exchange for hers.

These men were hitmen. They were killers and it didn't mater who they killed, as long as they received a reward for their hit. Killing them was justifiable, wasn't it? He's killed himself, when his life was in danger, when his job called for it. Could he really call himself any different then these men? Yes, he could. Because he killed to protect, not for the sake of it. Not for money or for fun.

He was relieved that Yamamoto wasn't here to see him like this, last night's lack of his manliness has really left him bitter and embarrassed. Groaning, he he drew his knees up to his chest and buried his face into his hands.

"Fuck," he muttered. "What have I gotten myself into?"

Hayato tried to ignore the nagging voice in the back if his mind, the one that was telling him that Yamamoto had left him just like everyone else. Tried to ignore the panic that rising in his chest, creeping up and wrapping itself around his heart and sinking its talons in. He was an idiot. He had been used and abused and what a feeling that was. It wasn't that he hadn't enjoyed last night, he did. Somewhere inside him where he had those couple of screws loose, the pain and torture felt good. Too good. It left him wide open, he let his guard down and this was the price to pay for that. He should have known better.

His life was a complete mess. Turned upside down by one person. Nothing made sense anymore, nothing was routine and logical. He hated it, he hated it so much and there was so much mess everywhere that he didn't know where to start the clean up. Maybe himself, first. He was fucked up, probably more than Bianchi and more than Yamamoto. Last night's revelation really shed some new light on some underlying issues he didn't even know he had. He liked being in control but at the same time he liked having it taken away from him, chained and helpless and at the mercy of someone else. Now if that didn't spell fucked up, he didn't know what else to call it.

But then he had to go and develop feelings like a true fucking idiot and that complicated everything. Now he needed to collect the pieces of himself that were scattered all over his messed up universe. That was going to be a job in itself and before he could do anything else, he needed to suck it up and get over it. Forget about it and move on. He had thick skin, he was resilient, right? Shit hurt, but Hayato wouldn't be here if he was one to give up so easily_._

Just as he moved to get out of bed, there was the scraping sound of keys in a lock and the motel room door opened.

Hayato looked up, startled to see Yamamoto walking in through the door in a fresh change of clothes; dark black jeans that looked delicious on him and a crisp red plaid shirt buttoned down a bit, carrying a tray of coffees. He smiled wide and it hurt Hayato's eyes to see a smile that bright when he was feeling this gloomy.

"'Dera, you're awake! I brought coffee, thought you'd need it, haha." He shut the door behind him and walked over to set the tray down on the bedside table. Leaning over, he grabbed Hayato's face in his hands and kissed him deeply.

Hayato's brain was still processing being wrong, as that didn't happen to often. He was so shocked, he couldn't open his mouth to demand where he was which is what he had wanted to do the second Yamamoto walked through that door. This kind of irrational fear was no good. It made him so weak and so stupid.

But when Yamamoto kissed him, he kind of melted a bit, slowly and the uneasiness and fear and everything else began to dissipate. It was a lengthy kiss, and Hayato felt love and longing and happiness from that kiss and he found it the strangest thing; these things that he never really felt before yet he knew what they were as they poured off Yamamoto's lips and flooded his mouth.

When Yamamoto hastily broke away from the kiss, Hayato was still speechless and Yamamoto's eyes were filled with concern.

"Hayato, you're shaking! Is everything okay? Are you sick again? I should have -"

"I-I'm fine," he said, voice raspy and cracking. It had been a rough night for his vocal chords.

Yamamoto didn't look like he was buying it but he didn't pry. "I'm sorry I didn't wake you before I left. You looked so... perfect sleeping. Like an angel and I didn't want to mess that up."

Hayato's face heated up and he reached to pluck a coffee cup from the tray. Yamamoto crawled on the bed behind him and laid a trail of kisses along the wing of his shoulder blade. It sent a shiver up his spine.

"Don't say sappy shit like that... idiot."

He felt Yamamoto's grin against his back as his arms slipped around his waist. "Somebody's gotta tell you."

"Where did you go?" he asked, opting for a change of subject rather than the nonsensical banter that would have ensued.

"Home," said Yamamoto with a shrug.

"To your dad's place?" He took a sip of his coffee, black and no sugar.

Yamamoto chuckled. "No, I told you last night that I live close by here, haha."

"Well excuse me for not remembering," Hayato said with a scoff. "You aren't wearing your glasses and you weren't last night, either. Did you break them or something?"

"Oh, haha... No... I uh, forgot them," he said sheepishly, moving Hayato's hair and kissing the nape of his neck.

"You don't need them to see, baseball idiot?"

Had Hayato not been in so much pain, even though it was dull and all over, he'd want to freeze this moment for a long time. It was stupid, definitely sappy but he thought that right now there was no rush to go anywhere. It was just them, talking about stupid things and there was no outside world to ruin it.

And then his phone rang. Yamamoto reached over on the side of the bed and came back with Hayato's phone and handed it to him. The caller ID revealed it was the department, so Hayato held a finger to his lips and answered the phone.

"Gokudera," he said clearing his throat.

_"Kufufu. Quite the good morning, isn't it, Gokudera Hayato?" _

"Mukuro," he growled.

Yamamoto looked over at him, startled.

_"Oyaoya, such a harsh tone for your superior. Listen, though it's fun to play with you, I'm a bit pressed for time. You need to come down to the department immediately." _

"Why? What's this all about? The Tenth told me he hadn't cleared me for work yet."

_"Oya, are you really in a position to decline, Gokudera Hayato? Be grateful that I pulled some strings so that you were able to get back on the case."_

Hayato felt an instant of excitement, getting back to working on this case was exactly what he needed to take his mind off other things. He'd just have to tell Shamal to deal with the Bovino men because he'd be too busy. But he still felt uneasy, he didn't like owing anyone anything. Especially not this fucker.

"What time should I come in?"

_"It should take you about an hour from that dreadful part of town you're in-"_

"What-?"

_"And I'm guessing you'll want to go home and shower first, so I expect to see you in three hours. That'll be five o'clock. No later, Gokudera Hayato, or you can forget about getting your badge back."_

_Are you spying on me again, you pineapple __fuck?_ is what he wanted to say but he didn't want to ruin his chances of getting back on the force.

"That's fine," he said instead, through gritted teeth.

_"Kufufufu, say hello to Yamamoto Takeshi for me there, you might want to thank him for your job back too."_

"How the hell do you know that?" But the dial tone was all he got in response. He hit the end button and turned to Yamamoto.

"Are you okay? What did he say?"

"What did you say to him?" Hayato snapped, suddenly feeling infuriated. How dare this guy go around meddling in his affairs, they barely even knew each other and just who did Yamamoto think he was, interfering and begging for his job back.

Yamamoto leaned back, brow knit in confusion and hands up in the air. "What? I didn't say anything! I don't even know the guy!"

"Then why is he saying I should thank you for my job back? What did you do, Yamamoto?"

"I didn't do - ah! Maybe he's talking about me quitting."

"Hah?" asked Hayato in surprise.

"Well, kind of sort of qutting. I told Miura-san I wasn't interested in reporting crime anymore. It's just not for me. I like writing about baseball and other sports much better, haha."

"So you quit this high profile case to go back to the sports column?" Hayato asked with skepticism.

Yamamoto shrugged. "Well yeah. I didn't like Gokudera being so upset about not working on this case. I know it's important to Gokudera, but it's not as important to me. When it comes to making Gokudera happy, it's an easy decision."

Hayato eyed him suspiciously before leaning over, grabbing Yamamoto's collar and tugging him in for a kiss. He was warm, so warm all over. Nothing in the world mattered more than this right now. The fact that Yamamoto would give something up that in Hayato's opinion was of importance, just for him, made him feel really... special. He couldn't think of another word to describe it.

"You really are an idiot," he said with a contented sigh.

Yamamoto wrapped his arms around Hayato once again, nuzzling his face into the crook of Hayato's neck. "Mm, Gokudera's idiot, right?"

"Yes, yes... my idiot. Do you need me to show you the way you showed me?" he asked slyly, reaching up to card through Yamamoto's hair.

Yamamoto nipped and kissed his neck, running his tongue over the sensitive spot behind Hayato's ear. "While I'd love to get fucked hard by you right now, shouldn't you be getting ready?" It was that dark and sultry voice, the voice of _that_ Takeshi.

The sound of his voice had a ripple effect, sending shudders down his spine in succession. It brought back memories of last night where he was chained and teased and tortured and finally fucked hard into the cheap motel mattress and he couldn't help getting hard at the recollection. Damn, he wanted Yamamoto, so bad and he didn't care what way he had him or which Takeshi he got as long as he got something right now.

"It can wait, this won't take long," Hayato said as he turned to Yamamoto and pushed him down on the bed. As messed up as it sounded, there was something unbelievably erotic in being covered in blood and sweat, cheeks streaked and stained from the painful tears of last night. His body was in pain, marked all over by Takeshi and that made him tick in a good way. It made his cock hard and his heart race and his head get all muddy and frazzled. He liked the feeling, whatever it was.

Kissing him hard, Hayato wasted no time undoing the zipper to Yamamoto's jeans while he tugged on Hayato's hair and moaned into his mouth. Once succeeding in that, Hayato tugged down his jeans and boxers and hungrily devoured Yamamoto's cock.

"Ha-Hayato!" Yamamoto shouted with pleasurable surprise.

Hayato didn't care anymore about anything, this felt good; it felt right.

Lapping up pre-cum off the tip of Yamamoto's cock, Hayato pumped sure and steady. "You like that?"

"Y-yes... feels... unh, Hayato..."

Hayato looked up at Yamamoto's face, bashful and blushing while biting his still swollen lip, trying to hold back.

_Fuck__ he looks so cute_, Hayato thought, bobbing his head and working his mouth efficiently.

"Nngh, Haya... I'm gonna come like this," Yamamoto whined, pulling on Hayato's hair.

"Then come, I'll drink you all up," he said, licking his lips and taking him all in once more.

And come Yamamoto did, bucking his hips forward as Hayato tightened his mouth around Yamamoto's cock and swallowed. It never ceased to amaze him how this man could make him break so many rules, try so many different and new things and because it was with him, Hayato enjoyed it all.

"H-how are you gonna...?"

Hayato paused for a moment, wondering if he was ready to take it this far. It was something else new to him and he wasn't sure he was going to like it. Or even if Yamamoto was going to like it. But fuck it, right? He didn't have a lot of time and he really wanted Yamamoto badly, so smirking once more, he pulled off Yamamoto's shoes and pants and spread his legs wide.

"I'm going to fuck you, hard like you wanted. Is that alright with you, Takeshi?"

Yamamoto knew exactly how to play with him, he was convinced. This man couldn't be better at reading him and knowing exactly what he wanted when he needed it.

Groaning, Yamamoto slid a hand down Hayato's face and cupped his chin, tilting it so that Hayato could get a better look. He licked and bit his lips, locking his eyes and holding Hayato's gaze while he licked his lips seductively. "Yes, _yes._ Fuck me, Gokudera. _Please." _

And Hayato delved in, nipping and kissing along his muscular thighs and sweeping his tongue in the hollows. He made up his mind, he was going to do it because, fuck it. Why the fuck not?

Hayato was never gentle, he didn't really get off with soft and slow and tender. His like for the rough and the erratic and the pain was dangerous and the fact that he was reckless didn't make it any better. So he pried Yamamoto's ass cheeks apart, loving the way Yamamoto so willingly hooked his arms under his thighs and spread further, aiding Hayato like the good little boy he was playing. And Hayato told him this.

"Mm, Takeshi... being such an obidient boy today. Do you really want it that badly?"

"Y-yes, I want _you_," he exclaimed, panting.

Hayato smirked and licked up his crease, feeling and tasting on his tongue. It wasn't any different from the way Yamamoto's skin tasted, and Hayato was addicted to the way Yamamoto's flesh made his tastebuds explode.

Working hard and fast, Hayato pressed the tips of his fingers against the slick ringed muscle. Yamamoto moaned above him and Hayato so badly wanted to make him squirm for last night. A little piece of revenge for making him _need _Yamamoto so much.

Curling his tongue around his fingers, he pushed in and probed and instantly felt Yamamoto tense with a hiss. He didn't stop, he used his tongue to prod alongside his two fingers while his other hand stroked Yamamoto's cock.

"Aah, shit," Yamamoto whined.

Hayato hummed, pleased and began twisting and pulling out, corkscrewing with his fingers carefully and meticulously, following with a wet swipe of his tongue.

Yamamoto was writhing, shifting and titling his hips and begging for Hayato, and although he wanted to make him suffer just a little bit longer, he really was short on time. If his life was really starting to go in the right direction, there'd be plenty of time to seek revenge on the gorgeously tall, dark and alluring man.

"_Please _Hayato. I'm ready. I'm _begging._ I want you inside me," Yamamoto groaned and Hayato had to pause for a second to appreciate how this guy could flip his switch like that. How he could go from sadistic and torturous to bashful and begging wantonly. It nearly made his hard and straining cock jerk and release but he held out. He wanted to be inside Yamamoto just as much as Yamamoto wanted him inside.

Gripping a hip, Hayato slipped in slow, relishing the warmth and tightness that encased his flesh. A moan, wispy and breathless, floated out from his throat and he closed his eyes, filling Yamamoto to capacity.

"Nn, 'Dera... feels good."

Hayato couldn't think right now, he just wanted to move. He did, snapped his hips hard and Yamamoto cried out his name, and he kept himself propped up on one arm with Yamamoto's legs still wide. After a few quick and hard thrusts, Hayato realized the position they were in was a little to painful and awkward for him to enjoy their connection. There was some kind of nameless feeling he had spreading throughout him and it was more than just lust and the want for just Yamamoto's body or for his own release. A different feeling from all the other times he's slept with Yamamoto. He wanted to be closer to him, to feel Yamamoto's body against his own.

He pulled out slow and leaned in, kissing Yamamoto softly, gently. Unlike his fast and rough pace from before. When he broke away, Yamamoto stroked his cheek worriedly.

"Is everything okay?"

"Mm," Hayato hummed, kissing down Yamamoto's neck and across his shoulder. "Turn over."

Yamamoto tilted his head up to kiss Hayato, pulling and kneading his bottom lip between his teeth. While they kissed, Hayato stripped him out of his shirt, mapping the curves of muscle in his chest and abdomen with his palms. When he was done, he moved back and allowed for Yamamoto to turn over on to his stomach and Hayato climbed over him, kissing in between his shoulder blades.

"Stay like this," he whispered in Yamamoto's ear. Yamamoto nodded and Hayato stretched him out, easing in slow.

He felt good, hot and tight inside and his whole body was on fire. Yamamoto turned his head and watched, and Hayato couldn't stop the flush of heat that spread across his face. He leaned in and kissed Yamamoto, the awkward angles of their mouths making it all the more enticing.

What was this feeling? This expanding pressure that started in his stomach and out through his chest, that squeezed his heart and closed off his lungs... it was a good feeling, weird and unnatural but the pace he rocked his pelvis at, the passionate but leisurely way they kissed each other had created some sort of warm pressure, a heavy feeling in his chest. Could maybe this be what making love felt like? It felt stupid to even think it, his face burning with embarrassment but it was the only thing he could think of. The only explanation that Hayato had for turning his fast and hurried need for release to something that was much more down tempo and fervent.

He descended further, using his arms to push himself up and hold himself steady. The pressure and tension was uncomfortable in his biceps but it was well worth the position. He watched Yamamoto grip the bed sheets as a short cry and hiss followed when he hilted, burying himself deep. Hayato began to move, rolling his hips lazily while holding himself up on either side of Yamamoto.

"Takeshi," he moaned against Yamamoto's shoulder. His hair matted was to his neck with sweat and Yamamoto;s hair was just as unruly. Hayato reached out and tugged on it gently and Yamamoto whimpered breathlessly in response.

Hayato was close, teetering on the edge of release and wanting to prolong this new found feeling. He focused on delving in deep and the way Yamamoto felt and sounded and the feeling he still felt in his chest, heavy on his heart. He lowered himself down on one elbow and nipped at Yamamoto's sweat-salty skin.

"Hayato..." came Yamamoto's voice, low and pleasurably subdued.

"Hm?" he asked, lifting his head as he thrusting in deep. He watched Yamamoto close his eyes and his lips part, letting out a cry as he hit that spot that just about did Hayato in. So close, he couldn't afford to lose concentration now.

He felt Yamamoto tense underneath him, clenching tightly around his cock, sucking him in to the heat. He stretched out an arm and folded his hand around Yamamoto's as he came, riding him through the waves of his orgasm. Yamamoto squeezed his hand and panted, moaning as the last bit of his climax rippled through him. And he had to rest his head on Yamamoto's shoulder blade and brace himself as an intense explosion of white fire caused him to shudder violently as he came too.

"Fuck... Takeshi," he groaned huskily against Yamamoto's back, holding him tight to keep the room spinning.

"I... I love you, Hayato," he uttered with a soft lick and kiss to Hayato's lips.

After a few minutes of catching his breath, Hayato rolled over next to Yamamoto, who quickly grabbed him and pulled him in close.

"Feel better?" asked Yamamoto, kissing the top of his head.

"Yeah, kinda... though I think I did more damage to my body," Hayato said with a frown, lifting up his arm. The fresh scabs had been broken and the cuts on his wrists were bleeding again.

Yamamoto returned the frown. "I'm such an idiot... I got too carried away."

"Shut up, I'm fine. I need to go home and shower, though."

"I drove here, I can drop you off."

"Okay... hey, were you able to get any information on Rokudo from your contact?"  
"Yeah, I'm actually going to see him later. Did you want to come?"

"The information would have been useful before today," Hayato said, pinching Yamamoto's side.

"Ow! Haha, that's not my fault! _Somebody _didn't want to call me, what was I supposed to do?" Yamamoto teased, poking Hayato in the shoulder. His flesh was still tender and he hissed at the prodding.

"Sorry," Yamamoto said dejectedly. "I really am the worst."

Hayato pinched him again and muffled Yamamoto's cry with his mouth.

"Shut up, idiot. I... I liked it."

"Gokudera... if you keep kissing me, we're never gonna leave this bed."

Hayato smirked and kissed Yamamoto again. "Mm, yeah. That's a problem. These beds disgust me. I feel really dirty."

"You _are _really dirty, haha!"

"Oi! Shut it, you bastard!" Hayato shouted, slugging Yamamoto playfully in the shoulder.

Yamamoto doubled over with laughter and Hayato joined him, not knowing that what he was feeling was truly happiness, some state of finally finding some inner peace.

* * *

Their car ride to Hayato's house was full of nonsensical chatter and banter and hearty laughter. Though Hayato had been dreading seeing Shamal and Bianchi in this condition, Yamamoto was making it hard for him to dwell on it.

He thought he'd have Takeshi drop him off and he'd go inside, but the uneasy feeling of leaving Yamamoto alone while the Bovino were out there wouldn't subside. And then there was Mukuro, who seemed to know every move he made and Yamamoto's too and Hayato had yet to figure out his angle. He couldn't very well leave Yamamoto alone, especially when he thought of the night he found him banged up in Sakura Town. It was unsettling to say the least.

But he honestly didn't feel too safe bringing Yamamoto in front of those two lunatics either.

Just as they pulled into Hayato's driveway, he took Yamamoto's hand in his and gave it a light squeeze.

"Listen, there's something I need to tell you."

Yamamoto looked perplexed, but smiled anyway. "Okay."

"My uncle... he's visiting from Italy, and he's uh... a very strict Roman Catholic. They uh... don't think too highly of... people like us. You know what I mean?"

Yamamoto nodded slowly.

"I know my sister knows, and she seems okay with it but... she won't say anything so you can't either. And you _definitely _can't touch me so freely in front of him. And don't call me Hayato... because my uncle knows that I'm not that friendly with people, you know?"

"Haha, okay, I get it. Relax, Gokudera! I won't make you feel embarrassed. Promise." He grinned reassuringly.

"You better not. Or I'll beat you up."

"Ma ma, always so cruel. Have a little faith, ne?"

"I would, if you weren't such a hopeless idiot," Hayato said with a laugh.

"So mean, haha."

"Oh and by the way... my sister is probably going to freak out when she sees me like this so... just go along with whatever story I give her. Got it?"

"Yes, yes. I got it, Go-ku-der-a," he said teasingly.

Hayato glared at him. "I'm so going to kick your ass later."

"Mm, maybe I'll have fun taking yours right after," Takeshi conceded darkly.

Hayato's face flared and he scowled. "Sh-shut up, you bastard. Don't get me looking like this before I go inside!"

"Haha, but 'Dera looks so cute like that."

"Yamamoto, I swear to God..."

"Okay, okay! Sorry, haha."

Hayato got out of the car and trudged to the front door of his house, Yamamoto following behind him. He had cleaned up best he could, but when he looked into the mirror hung askew on the dingy whitewashed walls of motel bathroom, the harsh florescent lighting was not merciful. His skin was pale and ashed, heavy dark circles wrung around his eyes and his lips were bruised and swollen. Travelling down his neck were several hickeys and bite marks that covered all of his chest and torso too. And then there were the rough and ragged lacerations on his wrists. Yamamoto had bandaged them well, but the fact was they were visible through the bloodied trails that soaked through. He hadn't thought of a story to tell Bianchi and Shamal just yet. He'd cross that bridge when he got to it.

He entered the house and he heard the television blaring and smelled heavy smoke lingering in the air. He hadn't even kicked off his shoes before he was bombarded by a furious Bianchi blocking his path.

"Jesus Christ, Hayato! Where the hell have you been?" she shrieked.

"Out," he muttered.

"I've been so worried about you! You've been acting so strangely this week and you disappear and I'm left to think nothing but bad thoughts! The last time you took off you ended up in a hospital with a bullet in your chest! Do you have any idea what that does to your sister?"

"Sorry." He moved down the hall, trying to avoid his sister's hot glare but the light hit him and he heard an audible gasp, loud and furious.

"What... what happened to you?! Hayato, who-"

"Oi, you noisy brats, keep it down! My stories are on," Shamal shouted from the living room.

Bianchi cast a look over Hayato's shoulder and her face screwed into an ugly expression of anger. "You!" she shouted accusingly. "Did you do this to my brother?"

Yamamoto looked to Hayato who stepped protectively in front of him. "No. Calm down." He'd try the passive approach first.

"I can't calm down! Hayato, who marked your beautiful skin like this?"

"It doesn't matter. Can you move out of my way? I really want to shower."

"Oi, oi... c'mon, what's all this ruckus about?" Shamal whined, walking into view. "Ah brat, you're home. Finally, your sister can stop nagging the shit out of me. You know, Bianchi-chan, that's not very cute."

"Go die," the siblings snapped in unison.

This caused Yamamoto to chuckle and Shamal looked over at him in amusement. "Oh Hayato, you brought a friend along."

"Yeah, this is Yamamoto Takeshi. Yamamoto, this is my uncle Shamal."

Yamamoto brushed passed Hayato and held out his hand to shake. Shamal stepped forward to take it and stopped short when he got a look at Hayato.

"Holy shit, kid. Rough night?"

Hayato let out an exasperated sigh. "Yeah, something like that. Now are we done here?"

"No _we_ are not done here. Fess up, Yamamoto Takeshi. Who did this to my angelic little brother?" Bianchi reached out her hands and stroked Hayato's face. He growled and moved out if her reach, finally being able to make it through the foyer. The three nuisances followed him and he felt the irritation begin to itch under his skin.

"Oh you know this guy?" Shamal asked.

"Aha, yeah... we've met once before," Yamamoto spoke up before Bianchi could. Hayato only hoped she didn't elaborate.

"So who is this guy, Hayato?" Shamal asked, taking a seat in Hayato's favorite recliner.

"Someone I work with," Hayato answered curtly.

"You haven't answered my question, Hayato," Bianchi snapped.

"And I'm not going to," he said as he walked into his bedroom. Bianchi followed and Yamamoto stood awkwardly fidgeting in the hallway between the kitchen and living room.

"Who did this to you? Are those... bandages on your wrists? Oh my God, Hayato... don't tell me you tried-"

Hayato whirled around and gripped Bianchi's shoulders. "Bianchi. I'm fine and you're being really fucking annoying so _please_ shut the fuck up."

"It was the reporter, wasn't it?" she asked, her voice still at the same high octave as when he first entered the house.

"Oh ho, Hayato! I thought those were kiss marks on you! This reporter, she must be a real good lay. She looks like she likes it rough and wild, huh Hayato?" Shamal laughed heartedly from the living room.

Yamamoto made a choking sound.

"Ugh! Shut the fuck up, Shamal. You too, sis. It's not of your fucking business what I do on my free time. I told you that when I agreed to let you stay here."

"I don't care what you told me, Hayato. Someone violated my baby brother and you've tried to kill yourself because of it! I swear, I'll kill him, Hayato. If it's him and he hurt you, you tell me and I'll kill him. I can make it look like an accident, a natural cause." Bianchi's eyes flared with fire and Hayato knew she meant what she said.

He grabbed her arm and yanked her into the bedroom. "Listen to me. Keep your fucking voice down! I don't need my personal life making its way back to Italy. They _will_ kill me, you know that," he said in a harsh whisper.

Bianchi scoffed. "They won't touch you if they know what's good for them. Hayato, I can't let this go," she said, cupping his chin and running her thumb along Hayato's bottom lip. "Someone did this to your face and whether you liked it or not, I can't accept this. You're too beautiful to look this ugly."

"Tch... " Hayato pulled out of her grasp and gathered his clothes. "Just drop it already. I have to go into work for five. I don't have time for this shit."

Bianchi glared at him before storming out of the room and Hayato chased after her, anxiety pooling in his gut. She walked straight up to Yamamoto and stood within an inch from his face and sneered.

"Bianchi," Hayato warned.

"Yamamoto Takeshi, you listen here. The next time you lay your hands on my beautiful little brother, you'd better check your next meal, your coffee, the water you drink and air that you breathe for traces of _me. _Because if he _ever _looks like this again, I will kill you."

"Bianchi!" Hayato intercepted and pushed her out of his way.

"Uh... I'm... sorry?" mumbled Yamamoto, rubbing the back of his head.

"Idiot, don't fucking apologize!" shouted Hayato, glaring at him.

"Oi, you noisy fucking brats... what's all that yelling about? I'm trying to watch my soap operas!"

"You can't lie to me with guilt written all over your face!" Bianchi yelled, pointing her finger in Yamamoto's face.

"Hayato, really... what the fuck is going in here?" Shamal asked, getting out of his chair and walking over to them.

"None of your fucking business, old man. Stay out of it."

_Why didn't I just let him stay in the fucking car? What an idiot..._

"Hayato, what's wrong with you? Are you some kind of masochist?" Bianchi asked seriously.

"For fuck sakes... You should go," Hayato said, turning to Yamamoto.

"Is that how this is? Are you his master? Does he beat you to get you off?"

"Bianchi! Jesus Christ! Will you seriously just shut the fuck up?! Oh my god, I'm so embarrassed I could seriously die... " Hayato groaned and took a few steps towards his bathroom.

"Hah... I'll go wait in the car, Gokudera," Yamamoto said with a dejected smile.

Shamal looked from Hayato to Yamamoto. "Wait, wait... what do you do again?" he asked, crossing his arms and narrowing his eyes.

Hayato groaned again. He knew it was coming and there wasn't any way of stopping it. But he'd be damned if he didn't try.

"A guy a I work with -"

"A _reporter_," Bianchi said haughtily, turning to Shamal.

"You bitch," snarled Hayato. "He's a _sports_ _columnist._ And anyways, it's none of your business who he is, you good for nothing quack doctor."

"No, no... it _is _my business," Shamal shot back sharply.

Hayato turned to Yamamoto. "Weren't you going to wait in the car?" he asked coldly, annoyed. Things were already out of control, he didn't need Yamamoto here making it worse. He should have just made him stay in the car.

"Haha, yeah," agreed Yamamoto as he nervously rubbed the back of his neck and frowned. "Hey, uh... don't forget about the time."

"Right, time. I have a five o'clock deadline to make it in to work for, and that's in less than an hour. So how about all of you fuck off and let me fucking shower for fuck sakes," Hayato ground out, hoping his offensive tone would get everyone to back off. But he should have known better. This was Bianchi and Shamal, the two largest annoyances in his life.

Yamamoto quickly hightailed out of Hayato's house and he breathed a minor sigh of relief and headed for his bathroom when Shamal suddenly grabbed on to his arm and the tenderness in them from being suspended above his head for so long was still there and it made him wince.

"Wait just a fucking minute, Hayato. You have some explaining to do." Shamal glared at him, Bianchi standing behind him with her arms folded across her chest.

"No, I don't!" Hayato growled, ripping his arm out of Shamal's tight grasp.

"You don't think I haven't put two and two together? The marks all over your body, your sister's reaction to _him_ and the fact that _he's_ a reporter? He didn't even try to deny it."

"I don't know what you're insinuating, but you're wrong whatever it is."

"Oh really? All this talk about love and a reporter and then you bring some pansy to our house -"

"My house. _My _fucking house, you bastard!" interrupted Hayato.

"Whatever," Shamal said, waving his hand and pulling out a cigarette. "You bring some pansy into your house that won't even deny or confirm your relationship."

"There is _no relationship_," Hayato insisted through clenched teeth. He pointed his finger at Bianchi who had come out from hiding behind Shamal. "This is all your fault."

"Tch." Bianchi flipped her hair back and moved towards him. "Your body is the eighth wonder of the world, Hayato. A marvelous temple that should be worshiped, not desecrated. I would never disrespect your body the way he has, dear brother." Bianchi walked around him, trailing her fingers along his shoulders and neck. "That man doesn't deserve this body. He doesn't deserve you."

"Oh, Jesus... fuck me," Hayato groaned dejectedly. "You're really sick. Get bent."

"You're both fucking sick," muttered Shamal disgustingly.

"Hm, you are too, old man. How many passes did you make at me when I was just a child? You dirty pervert," Bianchi shot back, wrapping her arms around Hayato and resting her chin in his shoulder.

Hayato flinched and moved out of her reach, growling furiously. "Don't _touch_ me!"

"Hmph... "

"Listen, you were old enough to know what you were doing when you'd flirt with your father's associates," Shamal said with a snort. "At fifteen, you were beautiful. Still are, who wouldn't be enthralled with such a sexy-"

"If you plan on living any longer, you had better shut your mouth, pervert." Bianchi narrowed her eyes. "Besides, Father asked that of me so he'd get the deals he wanted from them. I was an asset to the family and all you men loved it."

Hayato was glad the heat had been moved off him, so he tried for attempt number three to make it to his bathroom. He wasn't interested in his sister's twisted and unfortunate upbringing. It only made him want to kill his father more.

"Oi... do you think we're done here, brat?" Shamal shot, just as Hayato got to the bathroom door.

He sighed. This was never going to fucking end, was it? "I don't care, I am."

"Hn... I always thought that there must be something to wrong with you. Gorgeous, voluptuous women threw themselves at you all the time. What brat wouldn't jump on that kind of opportunity?" Shamal said with a grimace.

Hayato whipped around, eyes wide. "Those women practically raped me. Who would be okay with that, you fucking asshole?!"

"It was only rape because you're not into _that _with a woman right? You'd rather dic-"  
"Don't you fucking say it, Shamal. I swear to God, I'll put a bullet in your head."

"I'll say whatever I damn well please. I am not okay with this, you brat. It's always something with you, isn't it? Why do you always fuck everything up?"

Those words smacked Hayato hard across the face like a scorned woman. They shouldn't have hurt but they did. Coming from the one man he had any respect for, other than the tenth, made them far worse. Even in Hayato's darkest times, Shamal has never said those kinds of things to him. Those were words his father said, or his step mother or the bosses he worked for. Never Shamal.

And he couldn't stop the heat that flushed his face or the course of adrenaline that rushed through his veins because the words hurt, but Shamal's audacity made him furious. He lunged at him, grabbing onto his clothing and shoved Shamal against the wall.

"But what's worse is that you let him mark you like that? Are you his little bitch?" Shamal laughed as his back hit the wall, cigarette dropping to the floor.

"Stop it!" Bianchi shouted.

"Fuck you! You condescending, hypocritical bastard! Don't talk to me about fucking shit up! My life was fine before you two fucks came here and fucked it up! I want you out, both of you out! Go the fuck back to Italy!" Hayato screamed. He had enough, enough of everyone telling him what to do, telling him he was a fuck up, that he was no good. Enough of people putting him down for who he was and things he had no control over.

He was never going to fit in, not here or in Italy, he'd always be different no matter where he went. Everything about him was foreign; Eyes too green to be Japanese, too slanted to be Italian. Skin too yellow to be Italian, too fair to be Japanese. He was too alien for either world, from his hair to his gait to his sexuality. There was no place for Hayato but none of it mattered now. He had the Tenth and someone who loved him for everything that he was. He didn't need these walking contradictions telling him that he was fucked up when they were just as messed up.

"What about the Bovino?" leered Shamal.

"What about them?" Hayato seethed.

"Hayato, they're coming to kill me!" cried Bianchi.

Hayato released his grip on Shamal's shirt and whipped around to face Bianchi, locking straight in to eyes that were much like his own.

"Good fucking riddance then," Hayato said icily.

And with that he left his family speechless and entered the bathroom.

* * *

The shower was relaxing but painful. The scalding water worked out the knots and anxiety tightening his muscles but stung and burned the open wounds on his flesh. Getting dressed was a daunting task, his arms were still sore and numb and his the rest of his body felt just as bad. Still, he was lucky the weather was nearing winter and today was particularly cold so he'd be able to cover his marks with a scarf and jacket.

His house was silent now; there was no television going, no radio, nor annoying banter. Just eerie silence.

Well, Hayato liked it that way.

The door was closed to the guest room and she wasn't in the living room reading her usual magazines. He didn't care if his sister was hurt, quite frankly he was fed up with her touching him so freely, invading his personal space and making those disgustingly lewd comments towards him. There was never a moment where he wished he could be inside her head to know what she was thinking about, the gears inside her brain that motioned thoughts of sexual relations with her own brother. He just wanted it to stop, just wanted to not feel uncomfortable all the time. This was _his _house, his sanctuary and he wanted it to be peaceful and free of sisters with narcissistic brother complexes.

As for Shamal, any respect he had for that man had been completely disintegrated once he started that argument. The things he said couldn't be taken back. Hayato didn't want to take them back. He wanted that bastard to stop pretending he actually gave a shit, just like his father had once his mother died and fuck back off to Italy. There he could go shove his head further up his father's ass and Hayato would finally be done with Italy and the mafia. He could just close that chapter of his life off and happily set things up here in Japan and continue being a cop, being in Tsuna's company and finally, being with someone he actually _wanted _to be with.

He liked the sound of that future far better than a future in a place surrounded by people he hated covered in blood and sin. Not that he didn't have enough sin piled up against him already, he just didn't need to add to it when he so desperately wanted to sort his shit out and just repent by serving his time as a pure human being.

Passing the kitchen, he saw Shamal standing at the counter drinking his whiskey straight from the bottle and smoking a cigarette.

"You didn't mean what you said to your sister, did you?" he called as Hayato put on his shoes. He checked his watch and it was nearly five. He didn't have time to argue or have a heartfelt talk about love and rainbows and feelings.

"Every fucking word, and the same goes for you," he said coldly just loud enough for Shamal to hear. He stood and just as he headed for the door, Shamal called out to him again.

"Your father will find out about all of this and he'll never accept it. You'll probably end up dead, you stupid brat."

Hayato paused, seemingly giving Shamal's words considerable thought but in reality he didn't care. He didn't care about any of it anymore. He had people here that lived him, wanted him and _accepted _him for all that he was, faults and everything else in between. Once these bastards were gone, Italy would be nothing but a distant memory.

"I don't give a fuck," Hayato snarled as he walked through the door, slamming it so hard that it nearly came off the hinges. He walked down to the driveway and was relieved to see Yamamoto, still sitting there in that forest green shitbox he had for a car. His face lit up and he grinned as Hayato walked to his side of the car.

He swung open the passenger side door and dived in, knees bent on the passenger seat. He grabbed onto Yamamoto's shirt, muffling his surprised questions with his lips pressed hard against his mouth. He swallowed his protests with the flick of his tongue, flashing it across Yamamoto's teeth and palate. Yamamoto was responsive but tentative, and he struggled to break free from Hayato. And unguarded just for a moment when Yamamoto slid his hand down his spine and into his pants, he stiffened and gave Yamamoto the opportunity to freak out.

"Gokudera! What are you doing?"

"Kissing you, idiot. What does it fucking look like?" He straddled Yamamoto's lap, the steering wheel hitting him hard in the hip but he barely felt the pain.

Yamamoto looked up at him, eyes wide. "B-but we're in front of your house!"

"So?" Hayato tightened his grip on Yamamoto's shirt and bit down on his collar bone through the cotton fabric.

"S-someone will... will s-see."

Hayato licked a hard stripe up Yamamoto's neck and felt him shiver. "Since when have you cared?" he whispered in his ear.

Yamamoto's hands were pushing at him as Hayato continued his assault, biting and licking and grinding. Now was a definite time, a good of a place as anywhere, for him to release his frustrations.

"Go-Gokudera, stop! Someone will... see!"

"I don't care," he said as he bit down on Yamamoto's earlobe. And he truly didn't, he didn't care if Shamal was watching or Mukuro's survailence team or his sister of his fucking nosey neighbours. He wanted Yamamoto, he wanted to feel calm and a cigarette just wouldn't do.

"B-but..."

"Takeshi... I want you. I_ need _you," Hayato urged. He didn't care what he sounded like, didn't care how vulnerable he felt.

"No... not here... Stop, Goku..."

"Your body wants me. See?" Hayato grinded his hips down on Yamamoto's erection for emphasis. "You say no but your body says yes. Just stop resisting already." Hayato grabbed Yamamoto's wrists and tried to keep him from pushing him away but Yamamoto was stronger than he was.

"Gokudera, stop! You'll regret this later, you know!"

Hayato grabbed Yamamoto's hand and slipped it into his pants. "You want me, then? You can fuck me then, I don't care. I need this, Yamamoto."

Yamamoto sighed frustratingly and finally succeeded in pushing Hayato back into his seat forcefully.

"Fuck you," Hayato growled. "I get it, it's only good enough when _you_ want it. _I'm _only good enough when you want it." He fumbled for his cigarettes in his jacket pocket, adrenaline still keeping him high and making his hands was so embarassing, he couldn't even look Yamamoto in the face. Such a wanton display of himself to only be rejected. So foolish of him to even think that he was worth anything to Yamamoto.

"Hayato, look at me."

He turned his head and lit his smoke. "What the fuck do you want? Just drive me to work, you bastard. I don't want to talk to you."

Yamamoto shot him an angry glare, it looked so unnatural on his face. "It's not like that and you know it. I told you I love you and while doing it in the car is a really erotic idea, if anyone sees us they can use it against you for whatever reason. Do you really want that? Because I don't. I don't want you to hate me for that."

Hayato's cigarette nearly dropped from his mouth as his jaw slacked slightly. How could this blatant and obvious idiot make such a good point that it made Hayato blush with embarrassment that he had been blinded by his dick instead of using his head. For someone as logical as Hayato to be proven wrong by such an idiot really made him infuriated.

And okay, maybe Yamamoto did love him and he had just thought he could make him bend to his will, but he was also glad that Yamamoto could be sensible when he needed to be.

"Idiot... just drive me to work," he repeated. "I'm already late."

_i can't believe i practically begged for this bastard..._

"Hayato, I'm sorry."

_Fuck, I really hate him._

"Shut up."

"Are you arlight?"

_But he makes me like him. Love him. Whatever this fucking thing is, I'm addicted._

Hayato growled. "Yes, god dammit. Shut up."

Yamamoto put the car in drive. "How'd it go inside?"

"I don't want to talk about it," Hayato muttered.

"I love you, you know."

_I'm already wasted on your love, you idiot._

"Fuck you."

"Are you sure you're not mad at me?"

"Of course I'm mad at you, you made me look like an idiot. Just stop fucking talking already."

_You always make me look like an idiot... And you're an idiot. Two idiots, stupidly in love. I guess it can't be helped then, can it? _

He took a long drag of his cigarette, lost in his thoughts and Yamamoto fell silent and stayed that way until they reached the precinct.

Finally, some absolute peace and fucking quiet.

* * *

**Author's Note :**

So Hayato is a little mushy and fluffy and OOC (in my opinion) in this chapter, but I don't care. He needed to be. Also, if there's any mistakes you notice, all my fics are unbeta'd and I am pretty lazy at editing myself. I also write these chapters on my cell before uploading them, and my auto correct has conspired to make me look like an idiot. So, that's what happened there.

As always, reviews and comments would be lovely! Really would love to hear your thoughts and opinions on the fic so far!


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